Wilde Hearts
by JoAnn and Leah
Summary: Third in the series, follows Second Chances and Best for Everyone. Kid's daughter comes for a visit, and affairs of the heart bring conflict and joy.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Killing Time

The air in the saloon was stagnant and heavy. It was one of those uncharacteristically hot, heavy days that sucked the breath out of you and left you dry and parched by the time you had finished your morning chores. The saloon was a refuge of sorts, a place to hole up and wait for sundown and relief from the unrelenting heat. For men who weren't compelled to be somewhere else and who had nothing better to do, the draw of a cool beer and the prospect of winning a few dollars at the poker table was enough to keep a friendly game going. Jed Curry was one of those men.

Outside, the early afternoon Wyoming sun was still almost directly overhead and even with every window and door in the place propped wide open, it felt close and stifling. Not the slightest breeze ventured inside; which in itself was unusual for this part of the country, where the wind seemed to blow day in and day out. But for the men and women who called this place Home, it was just another hardship to be handled without complaint, almost without notice. Genevieve was one of those women.

Although Genevieve hadn't actually lived in Pine Bluffs long, you could tell by looking at her that she'd learned to live with hardship early, wherever she had grown up. She was a pretty woman, but her beauty had more than a little bite behind it. Her hazel eyes didn't sparkle so much as gleam. Her lips curved into a charming, come-hither smile, could be used to strike fear into the hearts of her customers as easily as they could incite desire. All an unsuspecting man needed to do to witness this transformation would be to mistakenly shorten her given name to the more playful sounding 'Genny'. It was one mistake he would be loathe to commit a second time.

The heat had encouraged her to leave her layers of crinoline, usually worn beneath her skirt to add the flounce that so many men found appealing, in her room. Her yellow satin dress clung to her body provocatively in ways that not even the heat could diminish. She was perched on a stool next to the bar, a few feet behind Kid Curry. Her back was to the bar, her elbows propped on the bartop behind her. She held a glass filled with plain water in one hand and would take occasional sips from it. Other times, she dipped her fingers in the cool liquid, and with it, sprinkled the milky white skin left bare by her décolletage—a move that was not missed by any of the male patrons in the bar.

She was bored, and despite the heat or maybe because of it, restless. Her right leg, crossed demurely at the knee over the left, bounced up and down continuously. Her restlessness grew as the minutes ticked by and her eyes never left the back of Kid's head. Having him so close and seemingly uninterested was more than she had the patience to bear.

After a few more minutes, she had taken all she would tolerate. Sliding off her stool, and straightening her posture in a way to best accentuate her figure, Genevieve walked quietly over and stood behind Curry.

His senses were as sharp as they had ever been, six years of amnesty hadn't changed that. He knew she stood behind him even before she spoke or touched him. He could smell the rose-water perfume that she spritzed herself generously with several times a day. Underlying this pleasant scent was the slightly tangy, but still not unpleasant, smell of her perspiration. He smiled, thinking no amount of bathing was going to keep even a woman like Genevieve from succumbing to the effects of this heat.

He shivered as her fingers, surprisingly cool, played along the edge of his shirt collar, toying with the curls that had grown longer than he normally kept them. He reminded himself silently that it was past time for a haircut and wished he had remembered to take care of that before today. He wanted to look his best when his daughter arrived. Looking at the clock on the wall, he wondered fleetingly if there was still time to visit Jim at the barber shop this afternoon before the stage got in.

He'd looked forward to this day for eight long months. Finding out that Eliza's daughter, Catherine, was his child had been a bittersweet time for Kid; he'd been filled with joy over the thought of having her in his life, but also regret for the years that could never be replaced. He was determined to make the most of his time with her now.

Genevieve raked her fingernails up through Curry's hair starting at the nape of his neck, moving her hand upward until it was fully tangled deep in his blonde waves. "Kid, why don't you leave those cards and come upstairs?" she purred, her voice husky with desire. "We can take up where we left off last week." She slipped her other hand, the one that wasn't still enmeshed in his hair, seductively over his shoulder and down his chest.

He removed her arm and shook his head. "Don't have time today Genevieve," he said inattentively.

A little angry at being rebuffed, Genevieve withdrew her hand from its nest within his hair roughly enough to make him wince inwardly. "But Kid," she said, her voice taking on a childlike lilt, "you haven't been to town all week. Stay gone that long and a girl's apt to get desperate and lonely." She feigned a pout and waited for him to respond. When he didn't, she gave a sigh and leaned closer again, giving the men seated across from Curry a better look at the swell of her full breasts and the shadowy valley between. Attention on the game was momentarily halted.

Kid studied his cards. "I doubt if you've ever had occasion to feel lonely, Genevieve. Not with all these other fellas ready to keep you company."

"You know I ain't interested in them like I am in you," she said, sliding her arm back around his shoulder, playing with the buttons on his shirt. "Come on, Kid. Just for a little while. It's cooler upstairs."

"I don't think so."

Her lips pursed in frustration and barely refraining from stomping her foot, she managed to keep her voice even. "Why are you in town so early anyway? Shouldn't you be at the ranch?"

"I told you last week," he answered, reaching up to brush her fingers away. "Today's the day Catherine arrives for her visit. I have to meet the stage and I don't want to miss it."

"What time does she get in?"

"Four o'clock."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake! Cutting it a little close aren't you? Just three hours before the stage is due," Genevieve said, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

"Well, I didn't want to be late, in case I got held up on the way into town," Kid replied defensively. "Besides, I think I might try to get a haircut if old Jim isn't too busy."

The player seated to Kid's left burst out laughing, revealing a mouthful of stained and crooked teeth, spraying a fine mist of spittle onto the table and onto the cards he held. The other players looked at him in disgust and bewilderment. Looking from one face to another, he finally said, "Don't you get it? Held up! Kid Curry held up! Now that's funny."

The other players either grimaced or groaned, depending on how close they were sitting to the player on Kid's left. Kid just glared cold steel at the man. "I meant delayed," he snapped. Shaking his head with annoyance, he threw his cards onto the table. "Cash me out," he snarled. "Come on, Genevieve. I think I might have a little time to kill after all."

Taking his cash in his left hand, Kid reached down and picked up the wooden cane that lay next to his chair with his right. He stood up, using the cane and the table to give him the extra support he needed. "You boys behave now," he said, nodding at the men remaining at the table.

Genevieve wrapped her arm around Kid's waist and slowly, the two headed towards the stairs leading to the private rooms. She glanced over her shoulder, favoring the envious poker players with a lascivious smile. "You boys behave now," she echoed.

Kid moved slowly, his pace measured and deliberate, hampered by the injury to his leg that he had sustained when he had rescued Catherine from kidnappers last fall. He was still within earshot when one of the poker players said in a loud hiss, "Emmett, you keep making them jokes about Kid Curry and he'll be killin' more than time."

Kid flinched at the words, but didn't turn around. The comment hurt more than the pain he carried with him in his leg; just one more reminder of his past. But his pace didn't slow and he didn't falter; he just kept moving forward, like he always did.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Charlotte Gray

Hannibal Heyes trudged along, gritting his teeth, the pain in his hip intensifying with each dusty step. In his bones and joints he felt every one of his thirty-seven years, and then some. Rubbing his hip and backside with the flat of his hand, he plodded down the old dirt road.

He scanned the horizon again, looking for his horse, but she was nowhere to be seen. He'd chosen the filly for his own a couple months ago, enchanted by her spirit and energy. The fact that she was a little skittish hadn't bothered him. He enjoyed a challenge, with horses as with everything else, and knew that, with time, she'd learn what was expected of her. Today though, her skittishness made him wish he'd taken Ol' Blue out on his ride around the property. At least he'd still be riding instead of walking, as he was now.

Looking to the east, some of the pain was forgotten for the moment as he surveyed the land. It wasn't huge, but it was theirs; Kid's and his. Just thinking about how their lives had changed since the amnesty gave Heyes a peaceful feeling in his soul. Things weren't perfect; he doubted if some people would truly ever forget their past; but things _felt_ as close to perfect as he could ever remember. To own their own land, to have a place to settle down and call home, that had been a forbidden dream of his every since his family died. In his heart, he hadn't had much hope that it would ever happen, especially the way the governor kept delaying their amnesty. But it had, and he had to admit he couldn't be happier. Life seemed just about perfect now…

'_Except for the fact that my hip is killing me,_' he thought, grimacing as pain throbbed through the joint.

"Mr. Heyes? Isn't it a little warm to be taking a walk?"

Heyes hadn't heard the buggy as it pulled up next to him. He frowned, annoyed with himself for not paying closer attention to his surroundings. _'You're getting soft, Heyes,' _he chastised himself, _'losing your touch?'_

Squinting, he smiled up at the woman driving the buggy. She was dressed conservatively in a long-sleeved, high-necked dark blue dress; too heavy for the warm day; adorned and softened with just a touch of cream-colored lace at the throat and cuffs. Her hair, hidden under a large-brimmed bonnet, was secured at the nape of her neck in a tightly wound knot.

"Yes, ma'am, it surely is. Didn't start off walking though. My horse got away from me. She'll probably make it back to the ranch before I do."

"Got away from you? Why, I find that difficult to believe, Mr. Heyes," she replied, a smile playing in the corners of her mouth.

"Well, as much as I'd like to deny it, it happened. Snake. Not even a rattler; just a regular garden variety snake."

"I see. Well, I suppose I could give you a ride back to your house, if you'd like. Unless you'd prefer to walk, that is."

"Thank you, Miss Gray. I think I'd prefer to ride."

Miss Gray scooted over, making room for him to pull himself up and onto the bench seat. Even more grateful for the ride than he realized, he sighed and settled himself next to her, content to let her drive.

Charlotte Gray taught at the one-room schoolhouse in Pine Bluff. Heyes had seen her on occasion, had even had the opportunity to speak to her a few times, most notably at a dinner being held in honor of one of the hometown heroes, some bigwig blowhard at the State Capital. He and she had been seated at the same table for the evening. Heyes hadn't had much use for the politician, but he did remember being impressed with Miss Gray. Her intelligence and quick mind made for interesting dinner conversation, at least until the guest of honor started his seemingly endless, self-serving monologue at the podium. Finally, Heyes had excused himself and slipped out of the room and gone home.

As if she could read his thoughts, she suddenly said, "I'm not sure I should have rescued you from walking. Not after the way you left me trapped in that meeting room, listening to that insufferable bore." Accusingly, she added, "You could have taken me with you when you escaped."

Heyes looked at her, trying to gauge her meaning. Before he could decide if she was seriously angry with him, her face broke out in a smile. "Don't take me so seriously, Mr. Heyes. I was only teasing."

"Oh," he said, nodding. "For a second there, I wasn't sure. You have quite a poker face."

"Poker face!" she exclaimed, indignantly. "Well, I dare say I've never played poker in my life."

"I didn't mean anything by—"

"Not that I wouldn't like to try sometime, I suppose. The opportunity has just never come up yet," she said, smiling mischievously.

"Oh, I see," he replied, enlightenment dawning on him like a spring day, "you're still teasing me."

She laughed, a little contritely. "I'm sorry, Mr. Heyes. I am not normally so contrary. At least I hope I'm not. But you see, I just came from a very serious discussion with the parents of one of my students. It didn't go particularly well and I'm afraid I'm in the mood to let off a little steam. You're probably sorry now that I even stopped to give you a ride."

"Oh no, Miss Gray! I can guarantee that I'm not sorry. I can handle a little teasing. But I'm not sure how much more walking my hip would have tolerated."

"Well, here we are," she said, turning in on the driveway that led through the front yard of the ranch house. "And there she is!" Heyes' filly was standing at the closed door of the barn, in all appearances, anxious to return to her stable. She looked at Heyes with large soft eyes, as though asking '_What kept you? I've been waiting here forever.' _From a distance, Heyes could almost swear that the filly batted her eyelashes at him fetchingly.

"Why that little vixen…" he muttered, scowling fiercely. If the horse noticed, she didn't let on. She just exhaled noisily through her nostrils and then searched the ground near her feet, finally finding a stray clump of grass that she nibbled daintily, not giving Heyes another thought.

Charlotte laughed; she had a lilting, cheerful laugh and even though it was technically at Heyes' expense, he couldn't make himself feel angry, or even the least bit annoyed by it. After all, if it weren't for his hip that ached like hellfire, he'd think it was awfully funny too. Besides, he liked the sound of a woman's laughter, and Charlotte Gray's laugh was marvelously pleasant to his ear.

Getting down from the buggy, he groaned as he put his weight on the sore hip, feeling a jolt of pain pass through the joint. After a couple of steps…as many as it took to reach Charlotte's side of the rig…it loosened up some and felt a little better. "Would you like to come in? Maybe have something cool to drink?" he asked her, extending his arm in invitation, hoping that she'd take him up on his offer. He knew Kid wasn't expected back home for a while yet and the thought of a little company was appealing.

She looked doubtfully, first at him and then at the modest ranch house. "I'm not sure I should," she began.

"Oh, I see," he said, disappointed. "Well, I guess I can understand why you might not want to…what with me being—"

"Oh, it's nothing against you, Mr. Heyes," Charlotte hastened to tell him. "It's just that—well, the house seems rather empty and I'm not sure I should come in."

"Ah. I see," he said carefully. "Keeping up appearances?"

"I'm afraid so. I'm sure you realize that as the town's school teacher, I have people scrutinizing my every action. If anyone saw me visiting a man at his home, alone…well, I'm sure I'd have some explaining to do."

"Yes, I see," he said. With exaggerated motions, Heyes turned to look in all directions, craning his head to look, first to one side, then the other, and finally turning in a circle to survey the space behind him. When he turned back to face her, he was smiling widely. In a stage whisper, he said to her, "I don't see anyone around, do you? I think it might be safe to come in for a minute; just long enough to have a drink," he urged sweetly.

She laughed, delighted; and her laugh lifted his heart, like it had earlier. He held out his hand to her, encouragingly, and glancing around for herself, she finally placed her fingers on his, allowing him to help her down, his hands moving to her waist for a few brief seconds as he lifted her to the ground.

"What about your horse," she said, remembering the filly that still stood at the closed barn door watching them.

"She can wait a while. She won't go anywhere and after this morning, she can just be patient. It's hard to believe, I know, but she's really a great horse. But don't tell her I said that or there'll be no living with her," he said conspiratorially.

"Oh, I won't," she promised, sincerely. "It'll be our secret."

Smiling again, he took Charlotte by the arm, gently guiding her towards the ranch house.

The front door opened onto a small foyer looking into a comfortable, yet masculine furnished sitting room. The room held two large, thickly stuffed armchairs and a matching sofa covered in dark green brocade. Two small mahogany tables sat close to the chairs, holding books and a few miscellaneous items. The hardwood floor was unadorned by rug. These were the only pieces of furniture in the room; not a doily or ruffle in was in sight. This was truly a man's home; tastefully furnished, but rather stark, in Charlotte's opinion.

Heyes watched her take in the room. "I know what you're thinking…needs a woman's touch. But we like it this way," he said.

"No, I think it's wonderful. It suits you. Very masculine and straightforward… it's perfect as it is."

"Thank you," he said proudly. And he was proud—proud of this home that he and Kid had worked so hard to get. "Come with me. Let me show you some of the other parts of the house."

The kitchen was surprisingly large. Pots and pans hung from metal hooks set into the ceiling over an expansive work area and a large wood cook stove took up most of one wall. This was the kitchen of a person who loved to cook. "Do you cook, Mr. Heyes?" she asked.

"No, not really. We've learned a few things since settling down here but neither one of us really knows our way around the kitchen very well yet. Most of the cooking we've done has been over a campfire and it's pretty much consisted of beans and stews. But I think we'd both like to see this kitchen get more use than it does someday…maybe we'll have to hire us a cook when the ranch is doing better and we can afford one. In the meantime, we still mostly just use it for making more beans and stew…and eggs. I've learned to make a mean omelet. Someday maybe I'll make you one."

She laughed, a little embarrassed. "That would be lovely, I'm sure."

"Yes, well…" he said, realizing she might have read more into his invitation than he meant, although, the more he allowed himself to think about it, the more appealing the prospect became. "Come on, I'll show you my favorite part of the house."

"I'd love to see it, whatever it is," she smiled.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it almost as much as I do, considering what you do." He walked in front of her, out of the kitchen and down a hallway towards the rear of the house. "I spend most of my day there, when I'm not somewhere else."

Stepping through an open door, he turned to her and, gesturing widely with his arms, said with obvious pride, "This is my office."

The room was modestly, yet solidly, furnished. Much of the available space was taken up by a large, sturdily constructed oaken desk, but what drew Charlotte's eye were the shelves and shelves of books lining two full walls. Her schoolteacher's mind was boggled as her eyes roamed over the volumes neatly assembled. Her feet carried her into the room until she stood in front of them. Her fingers reached up and lightly swept across the binding of several of the books. Her lips moved silently as she read the names and authors collected there; Wordsworth, Lord Byron, Keats, Austen, Dickens, the names were like old friends to her.

"These are all yours?" she turned to him, finally, and asked.

"Yep, all mine," he answered.

"Well, this is just phenomenal!" she exclaimed. "Have you read them all?"

"I'm afraid not, Miss Gray."

"Oh," she said, sounding disappointed. "Then you're just a collector?"

"No, ma'am, I wouldn't say that. I've read most of them. But there are probably a dozen or so that I haven't had a chance to get around to yet. I'm sure I will soon enough though, once work slows down a bit."

Her eyes continued their wandering across the book jackets. "Do you have a favorite author?"

"I've always been partial to Mark Twain, but I enjoy most of the classics as well," he said.

"I must say, Mr. Heyes, I envy you. I would love to have a library of this magnitude at my fingertips. On a schoolteacher's salary, I can't afford to buy many books, other than those I use in the classroom."

"All right then, consider them at your fingertips. I'd be honored to let you borrow a few volumes now and then. And then perhaps we could discuss them together. I'm afraid my partner isn't much interested in talking about books."

"Oh, Mr. Heyes, that would be wonderful."

"Tell you what. Why don't you have a look around while I go and fetch us something to drink. If you see any you like, you can take them home with you."

"I'd like that, thank you," she said.

Charlotte took her time, wandering past the rows of books, her eyes savoring the titles as a child would savor jars of colorful candy in a confectionary. She carefully chose the volumes she wanted to read, changing her mind several times, finding it hard to settle on just a few titles. Finally, satisfied with her choices and unable to contain her excitement, she sat down at Heyes' desk, eager to begin looking through the books.

Perched in Heyes' chair, Charlotte noticed another book already on his desk. Its unusual title piqued her curiosity and she picked it up; 'Tachyhippodamia; on the New Secret of Taming Horses' by Willis J. Powell. Intrigued, she opened the book and started reading. She didn't hear Heyes when he came back into the room, carrying a tray that held two tall glasses of tea.

"Sorry, Miss Gray, we seem to be out of lemonade. I brought you some sweet tea instead. I hope that's alright."

"Hm?" she said absently, looking up from the book. "Oh, yes…yes, that's fine, thank you."

He handed her the glass and she drank, grateful for the cool liquid. "Delicious," she said, licking her lip delicately. "I hadn't realized how thirsty I was," she smiled. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He gestured at the book in her hands. "I see you've discovered my latest interest. What do you think?"

"Well, I'm not sure. I only just picked it up. Quite an interesting title though. I've never heard of _tach-y-hippo-damia_," she said, pronouncing each syllable carefully. "What's it about?"

"I guess basically it's just a different way to tame a horse. Something a little more humane than the usual 'busting'."

"Fascinating premise—but do you think it really works?"

"I sure hope so."

"Oh?"

Heyes' eyes lit up with excitement. "Uh huh. Just recently, I acquired a really incredible horse. He's really something special, but unfortunately right now, he's pretty much unrideable and very unpredictable; some might say dangerous. But there's something about him that just drew me to him from the moment I saw him."

His excitement was infectious and Charlotte couldn't help but laugh. "Dangerous, you say?"

"No, I said _some_ might say that. _I_ said special. And really quite a beautiful animal too."

"So he's not dangerous?"

"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," he replied, earning himself one of her laughs.

"And you're planning on using the techniques from this book to tame him?"

Heyes frowned thoughtfully. "Not exactly. The book gave me the original idea to try this, but after reading parts of it, I'm not really sure it's something you can really learn from a book."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning, I think the ability to relate to a horse in this manner is, more likely than not, sort of inborn in a person. Either you have it, or you don't, I guess."

"And you're saying you think you have it?"

"I _know_ I have it," he said, without a trace of smugness. "I have spent my whole life around horses. Sometimes I think I understand them better than I do most humans, how they think, how they feel, how they communicate. I know I can do this."

"You know something, Mr. Heyes? I believe you. Do you think I could meet this extraordinary horse some time? I'd love to see him."

"You would? Then you shall," he said, pulling her up from the chair. "Come with me." Holding onto her hand, he led her back through the house, his enthusiasm evidence in his quick gait, making her hurry to keep up with him. She felt swept away, both by the warm touch of his fingers around hers and by the pace at which he moved.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Waiting for the Stage

On the street, Kid ran his fingers through his newly trimmed tresses, pleased (for once) with Jim's work. The old barber was past the age where he should have retired years ago and his eyes were not as good as they used to be, resulting in some interesting, if lop-sided haircuts. Fortunately, today his work was fairly even and Kid was satisfied that he looked presentable for meeting Catherine.

He was impatient. Even after killing time with Genevieve _and _getting a fresh haircut, he figured he still had a good while to wait before Catherine's stage pulled in.

A gentle, warm breeze stirred the air, a pleasant reprieve from the day's stillness. Kid glanced up at the sky. A few billowy clouds were moving in from the west. It was still hot, but all indications pointed to an impending change in the weather.

Another breeze swept past him, more forceful than the one before. He noticed that this gust brought with it a barely noticeable drop in air temperature. '_Looks like we might get some weather later this evening,'_ he thought, studying the sky over the Laramie Mountains. _'Should hold off until we get back to the ranch though.'_

Kid was still contemplating the heavens when he heard the familiar squeak and grumble of a well-traveled stage. Surprised, he turned to watch as the coach pulled up and stopped about fifty yards from where he stood. He felt an unexpected stomach flip, excitement over the prospect of seeing his daughter again after such a long time; excitement, and if he were honest with himself, a bit of apprehension too. "Early," he mumbled out loud to himself, walking as quickly as his leg would allow, his cane bearing most of the weight of his right side.

The driver was just setting the foot brake as he came alongside. Smiling broadly, blue eyes twinkling in anticipation, he stepped forward and eagerly pulled the coach door open. Expecting to see his young daughter poke her head out of the door, he was mildly startled to see that the face greeting him was not Catherine's but Emma Jeffries, the daughter of the owners of the local mercantile. Kid knew who she was because she often waited on him when he came in to buy supplies for the ranch. He had noticed how pretty she was but hadn't spent much time thinking about it. After all, what would an attractive young girl like her see in an older man like him, especially one with a gimp leg?

Besides, she wasn't his type. For now at least, women like Genevieve were more to his liking. Still, he had wondered about her, while standing at the counter waiting for her to take care of his order, and he'd been curious why such a pretty girl hadn't found a husband yet.

"Afternoon ma'am," Kid said politely, though disappointment showed in his face. Leaning on the cane in his right hand, he offered her his left, helping her step down from the coach.

With both feet safely on the ground, she straightened her hat and favored him with a charming, demure smile. "Mr. Curry, how nice to see you." Curious to know what he was doing meeting the stage, she asked, "Are you expecting someone?"

"Uh, yes. My daughter actually," he said hesitantly.

"Your daughter? Oh, I had no idea you were even married." She looked slightly disappointed. Realizing what she had just said, she was suddenly embarrassed and a warm flush rose in her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said suddenly. "I didn't mean to pry. It's just that—well, never mind."

"It's all right, ma'am. No harm done." He hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to explain about Catherine. "I'm not married. My daughter lives with her mother and step-father in New Mexico."

"Oh, I see," she said, still a bit flustered. Awkwardly, she searched for a way to change the subject. "Will I see you at the church social next Saturday night?"

"Uh, no ma'am. I don't really dance much these days," Kid said uncomfortably, glancing down at his cane before he could stop himself.

Her eyes followed his, but she didn't comment. "Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. No one goes to those socials to dance anyway. It's just a time to get together with friends and talk." She gave him a hopeful look.

"Well, I'll think about it, ma'am, but I'm awful busy with those new foals out at the ranch and the yearlings to saddle break. Besides, those functions are more for the young folk like you to enjoy."

The young woman's face fell slightly, and she leaned over to pick up her travel bag. Kid hesitated momentarily, wondering if he should offer to carry her bag for her; if there was time to help her and still be here to greet Catherine when she arrived. He decided to make the time and reached for the bag, saying, "Here, let me help you with—"

In the instant before his fingers closed around the bag's handle, however, it was grabbed by another masculine hand. "Here, Miss Jeffries, let me carry that for you." Kid found himself face to face with Sheriff Jack Caldwell. Caldwell had been the sheriff in Pine Bluffs for two or three years. He was still young, in his late twenties, and idealistic. As such, he was determined to be the best lawman he could be. He didn't like outlaws. And he didn't have much use for reformed outlaws either, which was altogether too obvious in the disapproving look he gave Kid as he reached for the bag.

Kid's stomach flip-flopped at the sight of the sheriff. Even after getting the amnesty, the sight of a lawman, especially a dedicated lawman like this one, always gave him a momentary start. After the shock of seeing Caldwell passed, it was replaced with an angry tightening in his belly.

Caldwell didn't like Heyes or Curry, and it seemed to Kid that the lawman took every opportunity to let Heyes and him know how he felt. He just couldn't seem to get over the fact that the town's newest ranchers had been outlaws and never formally "paid" for their crimes. Even when the man didn't say anything, Kid had the feeling he was being judged and he didn't like it. They had earned their amnesty, dammit. Hell, they'd probably suffered more getting it than they would have if they'd served their sentences. And if that was good enough for the governor of Wyoming, it ought to be good enough for some small town sheriff.

He'd tried talking to Heyes about it but his partner didn't seem concerned, he'd merely shrugged it off, saying they couldn't expect everyone—especially a lawman, to accept them as honest citizens, given their long history of thievery. He just kept reminding Kid that as long as Caldwell left them alone they shouldn't worry about it, they should just be content with the chance they'd been given and the life they'd found in Pine Bluffs.

Kid didn't understand how Heyes could be so cavalier about it, but he tried to follow his lead and let cooler heads prevail. Lord knew how he struggled with it though.

"Thank you, Sheriff, I'd appreciate that," Emma murmured quietly. The three hurriedly stepped out of the street and onto the boardwalk as the coach that had brought Emma into town pulled away, making room for the arrival of the coach which had just pulled up behind.

"Good bye, Mr. Curry," she called back over her shoulder. He wondered if he glimpsed just the slightest bit of regret in her face, as she was propelled away down the street by the protecting hand of the sheriff.

"Good bye, ma'am, Sheriff." The former outlaw nodded and tipped his hat politely, but his eyes were hard steel as they followed the retreating figure of the sheriff. The man had stood no more than a foot away from him and never even acknowledged his presence. Kid felt the anger burn in his stomach.

While Kid reined in his anger, the driver of the second coach reined his team to a stop. By the time the dust from its wheels had settled, all his negative feelings had slid away in anticipation of seeing his daughter again. He tried to peer inside the coach to see if she was among the passengers. At first glance, he didn't see her and his heart fell, wondering if this were the right stage after all. But only two stages were due into Pine Bluffs on this day, so he had to assume this was the one from Cheyenne. He wondered, fleetingly, if she had been detained in New Mexico; but then he noticed a pretty young woman staring at him expectantly, an amused smile playing across her lips.

"Catherine?" he asked tentatively.

"Who else were you expecting?" she responded, teasingly. "Aren't you going to help me down from here?"

"Oh, right. Well, of course. Here, give me your arm." Kid helped her out of the coach in the same way he had helped Miss Jeffries, just a few minutes before, as a gentleman helps a young lady. The only difference was, this time the young lady was his daughter.

Standing face to face, Kid took a minute to look at his daughter appraisingly. It was hard to believe that she'd changed so much in the few short months that had passed since the last time they were together.

The little girl who had worn pigtails and riding clothes had been replaced by a pretty young woman in a pale blue dress. With a fatherly embarrassment, Kid noticed that she had started to 'fill out' since the last time they were together. Gone was the boyish figure that he remembered; now Catherine was all gentle curves and softness. Once he got over the surprise, Kid grinned and shook his head in wonder. "You just look so grown up."

"Well, I am grown up," she declared. "I turned sixteen last week. You know, in Mexico a girl is considered a woman at fifteen. We had a big party for Carmen on her birthday."

Kid stared at her with a blank look for a moment and then smiled. He remembered the Mexican family who had befriended Eliza and her young daughter when they had first moved to New Mexico, and their daughter who had become Catherine's best friend. "Well, it looks like we'll have a lot of catching up to do."

"Where's Joseph?" he asked in sudden alarm, thinking of Catherine traveling alone all the way from New Mexico. "I thought he was going to be traveling with you? Don't tell me he let you come all this way by yourself?"

"He stayed in Cheyenne, his business there was taking longer than he expected. I was going to make this last part of the trip by myself—it's only 40 miles for goodness sake, but we met Mrs. Garvey at the stage stop and she said she'd keep me company."

"Oh, I see," Kid said, doubtfully. He noticed, for the first time, the older woman standing behind Catherine. Mrs. Garvey was one of the area's oldest residents and ran a millinery shop in town. "I'm much obliged, ma'am." Kid said, nodding to the woman.

"Oh, it was no trouble at all, Mr. Curry. Your daughter was a most delightful traveling companion. We had a wonderful time." Turning to Catherine, she smiled sweetly, standing on her toes to plant a soft, feathery kiss on the younger woman's cheek. "You have a nice visit now, Miss Curry. Stop in and see me at the shop and I'll show you those hats I was telling you about," she said as she turned and strolled off down the street.

"Miss Curry?" Kid asked, raising his eyebrows and looking at her with surprise.

"Well," Catherine began, "I told her I was coming to visit my father so I suppose she just assumed…"

"I suppose it would make more sense around here, since everyone knows who I am. Would that be alright with you?"

"Oh, yes," she said with a quick smile. "Should I call you Pa, then? Or maybe Jed?"

He looked at her seriously for a moment. "Well, what sounds right to you?"

"Pa, I suppose," she said cheerfully.

"Well, alright then," he said laughing.

"Good, can I go see the horses now? How many foals are there? Which horse will I get to ride?"

"Whoa now, one question at a time. I've got a buckboard around by the livery so we can head on out to the ranch right now if you want to."

"I'm ready!" she exclaimed, "let's go."

Kid picked up her bag with his left hand and headed down the street. Catherine followed a step behind. "Oh my!" he heard her exclaim suddenly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking back, instinct making his right hand itch subtly. He was ready to defend his daughter from whatever danger loomed.

"Well…nothing. Except—what happened to your hair?" she asked, craning her neck to look with adolescent horror at the back of his head.

"What? Are you kidding? I just had a haircut, is all," he said, frowning, fingering the curls at the back of his head. They felt perfectly normal to him.

"Oh. Really?" she said, disbelief coloring her words. "Well, no matter. Let's go." She started walking briskly. Kid followed, his frown deepening. "I'm sure you have a hat you can wear for a while, right? This is going to be so much fun."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Charlotte Meets Prometheus

Outside, Heyes headed towards the barn. His filly, the one who had thrown him earlier, had been returned to her stall, most likely by their ranch-hand, Clay. Heyes and Charlotte passed her and the other horses in the barn. He continued to lead her through the door at the far end of the barn that opened out onto two corrals. The larger, main corral stood empty but the smaller corral held a single horse.

The large animal was pacing restlessly inside the fence but stopped moving when Heyes and Charlotte came into view. He turned his massive head to watch them as they approached the corral. Heyes could see the wariness in his large, black eyes, as though he was deciding whether or not to trust them.

He was uniformly gray except for a star-shaped white marking on his face and white socks on both his front feet. His head was larger than that of most of the quarter horses she'd ever seen. Well-muscled through the shoulders and upper legs, he was indeed a magnificent animal.

"He's beautiful," Charlotte breathed.

"Yes," Heyes replied simply.

"May I touch him?"

"Well, that's up to him. Sometimes he'll let me approach him without complaint, but sometimes he shies away."

Charlotte slowly, and a little fearfully, reached her hand out to the horse in a non-aggressive manner. The horse chuffed the air, exhaling noisily through his nostrils, his leathery lips drawn back slightly in what looked like a frown; then, deciding she was all right, stepped close enough to Charlotte so that her fingers could lightly caress his velvety nose.

"He likes you," Heyes said quietly. "He's got good taste."

Charlotte glanced quickly at Heyes, smiling at his almost-a-compliment. "I like him too. What's his name?"

"Well, the man I got him from called him Damned Devil. And I haven't decided what to call him yet…but I'm definitely going to call him something other than that."

Charlotte laughed, quietly as not to startle the horse. Her fingers had now moved up his head to rub along his face. "So beautiful," she repeated.

"And unpredictable and dangerous, don't forget that," he warned.

"He doesn't seem dangerous now," she argued.

"I guess that's what makes him unpredictable. I'm sure that if you asked the fella I bought him from, he'd agree."

"Well, he needs a name. You can't expect to train him otherwise, can you?"

"No, I don't suppose. Any suggestions?"

"Hmmm…given his reputation for being rebellious, how about—Prometheus?" she said.

"Ah, the rebel god…I like it! Prometheus, it is then."

"I see you know your Greek mythology. I'm impressed. But then, I don't know why I should be surprised, considering your library." Her mention of the library seemed to remind her of how much of the afternoon had passed since she first picked Heyes up on the road. "It's getting late and I've taken up enough of your time. I'd best be getting on my way," she said, regretfully.

"I've enjoyed every minute of our visit, Miss Gray, but I agree that you should be going, before it gets too late. We don't want you out driving by yourself after dark."

"That's true, although it wouldn't be the first time," she said. "Before I go though, could I ask you a favor?"

"Name it."

"Could you please call me Charlotte? Miss Gray is what my students call me. My friends call me Charlotte."

"Then I'd be honored to be counted among your friends, Charlotte, thank you. My friends call me Heyes."

"Just Heyes? You don't have a first name?" she asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

"Sure, I have a first name. But it's a mouthful. Heyes is easier."

"Your first name is Hannibal, isn't it?"

He nodded, knowing she probably picked up his first name from seeing it in print somewhere during his outlaw days. He was surprised to realize that it bothered him a little bit to know that. After all, it was no secret around these parts that he had been an outlaw. But he preferred Charlotte not to associate him with being crooked.

"Hannibal…Hannibal…Hannibal." She repeated his name several times, as though rolling it over her tongue, tasting the syllables as she spoke them, drawing out different parts of the name each time she said it, as though looking for the perfect pronunciation.

In the end, she frowned. "You're right, it is a mouthful."

He shrugged.

Then she surprised him. "Do you mind if I call you that sometimes anyway? Maybe when I'm not in a hurry and have time to get all the syllables out? I sort of like it."

He laughed, strangely delighted by her words. "Why not? It might be nice to have someone call me that again occasionally…when you're not in a hurry." Remembering the woman who had named him Hannibal, the only woman in his life who had ever used the name consistently, made him momentarily sad but he pushed those memories to the back of his mind and concentrated on the woman standing next to him today.

"Wonderful," she smiled. "Now I really must be going."

Heyes and Charlotte retraced their steps, chatting amiably as they made their way back to his office. The stack of books she had chosen was still on the desk where she had left them. He scooped them up and the two of them walked together to the front door.

"Charlotte," Heyes began, his face thoughtful, "before you go, I wonder if I might ask you something?"

"Of course, Heyes."

Before he could continue, the front door opened. Heyes felt a momentary flash of irritation at the interruption. The irritation vanished when he saw Kid and a young woman, whom he recognized immediately as an almost grown Catherine, come through the door. His face lit up, delighted to see her, and he hurried over to wrap her in an affectionate hug, passing the stack of books he was holding into Kid's hands, forcing him to awkwardly juggle Catherine's bag, the books, and his cane. Heyes was so excited to greet the girl that he didn't notice the less-than thrilled look on his partner's face.

"Catherine, it's so good to see you. Did you have a good trip?"

"Oh yes, thank you," she answered with a big smile.

"Kid, Catherine, this is Charlotte Gray. Charlotte is the school teacher in town," he added for Catherine's benefit. "Charlotte, I believe you know Jed Curry. And this is his daughter, Catherine. Catherine will be staying with us for a while."

Kid thrust the books back at Heyes, freeing up one hand that he used to tip his hat in Charlotte's direction. Heyes, in turn, handed them to Charlotte. She thanked him again for letting her borrow them, and added, "I'd like to loan a couple of them to one or two of my more responsible students after I'm finished reading them, if you don't mind?" She tossed a hopeful glance toward Heyes.

"Absolutely, keep them as long as you'd like," Heyes assured her.

"Uh, well, I'd better show Catherine where her room is," Kid said awkwardly. He was looking at his partner questioningly.

"You do that, Kid, and I'll walk Charlotte to her buggy," Heyes said. "Catherine, I'm glad you're here. Welcome to our home."

"Thank you, Mr. Heyes."

Kid and Catherine went upstairs to get the girl settled, and Heyes and Charlotte walked outside. Standing next to her buggy, Charlotte suddenly remembered that Heyes had been about to ask her a question before Kid and his daughter arrived. "You were going to ask me something?"

"Hm? Oh, right. I was."

She smiled as she looked back at him with interest.

"Well…" He hesitated ever so slightly, and then said, "I'm sure you know about the church social next Saturday?"

She laughed, "Well, yes. As a matter of fact, I'm one of the organizers."

"Oh. Yes, of course, that makes sense. Anyway, I was thinking…if you don't already have a date…would you like to come with me?"

"Oh," she paused and looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well, I will be there, of course, but I wasn't planning on having an escort."

"I'd be honored if you'd let me," Heyes continued, hopefully.

"Thank you, Heyes. But I'm sorry, I don't think so. Please don't misunderstand—I would love to go as your date, but I'm sure I'll have so much to do that evening, what with everything—"

"It's alright. You don't have to explain. I understand."

She smiled, a little sadly, Heyes thought (or was it pity?). Then she looked away, as though suddenly feeling awkward. She put the books on the floor of the buggy and gathered her skirts around her in order to pull herself up onto the bench seat. Ever the gentleman, Heyes put his hands on her waist and boosted her up. She felt a tingle where he touched her, even through the layers of fabric that lay between his fingers and her skin.

She looked down at him. He noticed her face was a bit flushed and assumed it was because she was embarrassed at having to reject his invitation. Not wanting her to feel bad, he smiled up at her kindly, squinting into the late afternoon sun. "Goodbye, Charlotte. And enjoy the books."

"Thank you, Heyes. I will. And please, let me know how it goes with Prometheus."

"I will."

He watched until she drove off their property, then he turned and walked back into the house. Kid was sitting, alone, in the parlor. "Where's Catherine?" he asked.

"Upstairs. Getting ready for dinner. She's had a long day."

Heyes looked alarmed, "Dinner?"

"Awww, Heyes. Don't tell me you forgot to make dinner?"

"Don't be silly." He laughed, unconvincingly. "Anyway, I'm sure there's some leftover chicken in the icebox."

Kid sighed deeply. "Leftovers? On her first night here? I told her you were making dinner."

"Don't worry, Kid. It'll be fine."

"What was she doing out here anyway?"

"Who?"

"Charlotte Gray. What was she doing here?"

"My horse threw me. She picked me up on the road and gave me a ride home, if you must know. What's the matter, Kid?"

"I don't know. Nothing."

"I know you better than that. Something's bothering you. What is it?"

"Nothing. Just—I don't know—she just doesn't seem like the kind of woman you'd be interested in."

"Who says I'm interested."

"Come on, Heyes. I know YOU better than that. I can tell, that's all."

"Well, so what if I was?" he said defensively. "She's a nice woman. She's smart and friendly; and I think we have a lot in common."

"But Heyes, she's just so…" He wanted to comment on the woman's plainness—how she didn't seem to be as pretty as the women he was used to seeing Heyes attracted to, but something in his partner's eyes made him reconsider.

"What, Kid?" Heyes snapped.

"Nothing, Heyes. Forget I said anything."

Heyes inhaled deeply. After a few seconds, he said, "I found another section of fence line down today."

"You did? Where was that?"

"Out north. Just west of the dry wash. Hard to tell what happened. The posts look like they should have stood, but could be they just weren't set in properly."

"Yeah, I guess so."

Heyes clapped his hands together, "Well," he said, dismissing their conversation, "So are you going to help me get dinner ready or what? Let's show Catherine that her old dad and his devastatingly handsome partner know how to whip up a real meal."

Kid pushed himself up out of his chair, using the cane for leverage. Heyes followed him into the kitchen. He found himself staring at Kid's hair. "Been to see old Jim again, I see. Nice haircut," he said sarcastically.

Kid shot him a cold glance over his shoulder. "What's wrong with it?" he challenged.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Then barely audible, "I'm sure it'll grow out in no time."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Breakfast at the Ranch

Sunlight streaming through her window and the aroma of bacon frying in the kitchen roused Catherine from her peaceful sleep. She was normally an early riser, but after several long days of traveling and then not being able to fall asleep because of the excitement of arriving at the ranch, she was in no hurry to leave the soft, comfortable bed. Eventually, hunger won out over sleep, and she threw off the down comforter and blanket that she had found surprisingly welcome during the night. The temperature in Wyoming certainly dropped much lower at night than it did in New Mexico, even though the weather during the day yesterday had almost reminded her of home. Rather than taking the time to dress, she pulled on her robe and slid her feet into the slippers that she had set by the side of the bed last night before crawling under the covers.

As she walked down the hallway she could hear men's voices in the kitchen. She couldn't hear the conversation because the men were talking quietly but she could tell by their tone that the subject being discussed was serious.

Expecting to see only her father and Heyes, she was at first taken aback to see a third man whom she did not recognize sitting at the kitchen table. Suddenly feeling self-conscious and painfully aware that she was dressed in her robe and slippers, she hesitated a moment at the end of the hall, contemplating returning to her room to get dressed. The men, intent in their conversation, did not see her at first and she found herself giving in to her natural curiosity, choosing to listen in on their words, rather than leaving to get dressed.

"Heyes, I'm telling you we need a third man," the unfamiliar man was saying in a low but serious tone.

"And I'm telling you—we don't need another man, I can handle it," Kid replied matter-of-factly, tired of discussing the matter, ready to let it drop.

"You're supposed to be taking it easy on that leg a little longer," Heyes admonished quietly.

"Forget my leg. It's getting better every day," Kid insisted. Heyes didn't reply but his raised eyebrows betrayed his skepticism, much to Kid's annoyance.

"I still think we need another man, especially if there's trouble," the first man insisted again.

"But, up to now everything that's happened might just be coincidence. We shouldn't be looking for trouble where none exists. Besides, I'm going to be taking a bigger role in the day to day management of the ranch. We'll be fine with just the three of us."

"Heyes, when did you ever do any of the dirty work?" Kid scowled.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Kid? I carry my weight around here and always have." Heyes' wood-colored eyes flashed in anger.

Wishing he'd never said the words, Kid started to apologize, "I'm sorry, Heyes. I didn't mean anyth—"

He stopped talking, abruptly, when he saw Catherine standing by the door and his face broke out into a broad smile, his apology and his anger forgotten. "Hey, how long have you been up? Come sit down and have some breakfast."

"Uh, I'm sorry. I should have let you know I was here, but I didn't want to interrupt." Catherine stood in the doorway, feeling awkward and a little ashamed at being caught listening.

"Don't be silly, Catherine. You aren't interrupting a thing. Come in."

Remembering how she was dressed, she said, "I think I'll go get dressed first. I didn't know you had company." She glanced back toward her room as if anxious to leave.

"Company?" Kid looked honestly confused. "Oh," he said after a moment. "This isn't company. This is just Clay. He works for us. You'll be seeing a lot of him around here."

"Clay, this is Catherine, my daughter." Kid introduced the girl with a broad smile on his face.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss. I've heard a lot about you."

"Well," he said, pushing himself out of his chair, "I guess I'd best be going and let you have your breakfast." Clay nodded to Catherine. "Enjoy your visit, Miss. If there's anything I can do for you while you're here, let me know."

"We'll finish this later, Clay," Heyes told the man as he stood and walked him to the door. "Thanks for stopping by the house."

Kid's attention was still focused on his daughter. "Sit down and have some bacon and eggs. Heyes fried them up himself. And I made the biscuits. I've been keepin' them warm for you." Kid stood and pulled out a chair for Catherine before limping over to the wood stove.

"Well, I am a little hungry. And it smells great," she said, sitting down.

Heyes returned and stood next to the table. He picked up his coffee cup and took a deep swallow, grimacing because it had turned cold while they'd been talking to Clay. "Did you sleep well?" he asked, giving Catherine a warm smile.

"Oh, yes, thank you. The bed was very warm and cozy."

Heyes raised his eyebrows, amused. "Cozy? Well, good; as long as you were warm enough." Before sitting back down, he poured himself a fresh cup of hot coffee from a blue enamel pot on the range.

Kid brought Catherine her plate, piled high with three eggs, two biscuits, and a pile of bacon. Heyes studied the plate and glanced at his friend, eyes twinkling. Kid apparently thought Catherine had inherited his appetite.

"Oh, my! I couldn't possibly eat that much," she said in surprise.

"No? Oh, I'm sorry. You said you were hungry so…"

"Kid, she's a young lady, not a growing boy," Heyes laughed.

"Well, I know but…"

Catherine smiled back at her father. "These biscuits look fabulous." She spread a little butter and honey on it and took a healthy bite from it. "Delicious!" she pronounced, after swallowing.

Kid smiled happily.

After a few more bites of her breakfast, Catherine gave her father an inquiring look, "What were you talking about when I came in? It sounded serious."

"Oh, nothing really. We had hired a boy to help saddle break the two-year olds and he up and quit yesterday."

"Oh, is that bad?" she asked.

Kid shrugged. "Well, it leaves us a little short-handed is all, but let's not worry about that now. What would you like to do on your first day here?"

"Well, let's see. The first thing I want to do is go for a ride—right after breakfast, if that's all right with you. And then see the rest of the ranch. Then maybe go into town. I thought maybe I could get a few things for my room, like fabric for some curtains, or…"

"Whoa! Ok, I think that'll do, for a start," Kid said laughing. "I can take you for a ride right after I get a few things sorted out with Clay."

"I just can't get over how good these biscuits are, Pa," Catherine said, helping herself to the second one.

"Well, you'd be surprised how much better his cooking got once he realized he could take his time 'cause there wasn't any bounty hunter riding after us," Heyes teased.

"Yeah, we sure made some quick meals back then," Kid laughed. "Do you remember the time that posse was chasing us through—"

Kid stopped when he noticed the dismayed look Catherine was giving them. Both men fell silent.

"How can you joke about…" she looked down, not sure what to say.

"I'm sorry, Catherine," Kid apologized. "But you have to understand, that was the way we lived back then."

"I know, but…" She looked down at her breakfast plate and shrugged unhappily.

Breakfast continued with a few awkward attempts at small talk. Finally, Heyes said, "Catherine, why don't I take you for that ride? Then your pa can get things worked out with Clay and be ready to take you into town when we get back."

The girls face brightened. "That would be wonderful. I can be ready in a few minutes."

She jumped up from the table and ran to her room to change into riding clothes while Heyes and Kid cleared the dishes.

"I dunno, Heyes. I just don't know what to say to her," Curry complained after she had gone to her room.

"Ah, it'll get easier, Kid. You just have to give it some time."

Kid thought about Heyes' words for a few moments. Suddenly, he remembered what they'd been talking about earlier, before Catherine had come in. "Heyes, do you think Denton had anything to do with Billy quitting yesterday?"

Heyes glanced up in surprise. "No Kid, I don't. I know the man. I've played cards with him. He may have wanted our land after the river shifted, but he made us an offer and we turned him down. I don't think he'd do anything underhanded."

"Come on, Heyes. How can you know all that after playing a few hands of poker with the man?"

"More'n a few hands, Kid; and he plays honest. Tough, but honest. You can tell a lot about a man by the way he plays poker."

"I don't know, Heyes. Somebody's been knocking down our fences. I don't think they're just falling over by themselves."

"Even if that's right, there has to be a different explanation. Denton wouldn't tear down our fence just because our piece of land has more water on it now. He's got too much at stake in this community to resort to that sort of thing."

"Heyes, he wants access to that river for his ranch. You saw for yourself how mad he got when we turned down his offer."

"He was angry, but not angry enough to knock down fences. That's just crazy. Anyway, he knows we have just as much right to that water as he does."

"Well, then, maybe he did it because he thinks we took those two horses of his last week." Kid shot his partner a worried glance.

Heyes looked up in surprise. "Kid, nobody thinks we took those horses. I heard talk in town that he found the corral gate open. One of his hands must have forgotten to close it. That's all…I'll bet those two colts will turn up looking for a nice full food trough by the end of the week.

"Maybe—and maybe somebody took 'em—and maybe Denton will figure the most likely suspects are the two ex-outlaws on the neighboring ranch That damn sheriff already gives me the fish-eye every time he sees me. All he needs is one good reason to—"

"Kid, you're being paranoid. Everything's going great here. Don't go looking for trouble where none exists. You'll see. Everything is going to work out fine…I'm going to be able to spend more time working with the horses, and maybe Catherine can even help out?" He gave his partner a winning smile that he was sure would lift his sinking mood.

"Yeah, at least she seems excited about the horses," Kid sighed. "Just wish we felt more comfortable with each other."

"Give it time, Kid. The two of you barely know each other. In a couple of days, it'll be like you've known each other forever."

"I guess," Kid agreed half-heartedly and headed out of the kitchen.

Heyes' eyes followed him, hoping silently that there would be no further trouble to interfere with Catherine's visit.

"Ready!" Catherine called out as she bounded out onto the porch. This time, rather than a high necked dress with ruffles; she wore a simple blouse and a split skirt for riding. She also wore tall brown riding boots. Her hair had been pulled back into one long braid and it hung casually down her back, swaying back and forth as she looked around in anticipation.

"Well, let's go introduce you to some of the horses," Heyes smiled, happy to see her so excited. "I got one all saddled up for you. I think you'll like her. She's young and has some spirit, but she's a good filly. As I recall from the last time I saw you, you're a good enough rider to handle her."

"Oh," Catherine gasped as she caught sight of the chestnut mare standing just around the side of the house. The horse's face was white and a lock of chestnut mane fell over her forehead. All four legs were nearly black to the knee, but the rest of the horse was the color of a rich mahogany wood that had been polished to a glistening shine.

"She's so beautiful! Oh, she's just perfect. Thank you, Mr. Heyes." Catherine gazed admiringly into the horse's eyes as she reached up to rub the soft velvety nose.

"What's her name?" the girl asked, not taking her eyes from the horse.

"Well, Ki—your pa and me—we were calling her Little Beauty because she's so pretty, but you can name her if you want."

"She is beautiful…I'll call her Belle, that's 'beautiful' in French, you know."

"Oh. Well, I don't know much French myself, but that seems fitting," Heyes laughed. "Okay, Belle it is."

"Thank you, Mr. Heyes," she said again, as excited as a young colt herself.

"Hey now. If you're going to be calling Kid, Pa, you should start calling me Uncle Heyes. It sounds a lot more like family than Mister."

Catherine smiled and looked up back at the former outlaw leader. "Okay, Uncle Heyes," she grinned.

He grinned back. "That sounds good. Real good," he said.

"Where are we going to ride?" she asked, climbing easily into the saddle and leaning forward to stroke the mare's neck.

Heyes handed her the reins. "How about up to that ridge over there? You can see the whole valley from up there. It's awful pretty in the morning."

Catherine nodded her agreement and urged Belle into an easy trot.

Heyes swung himself up onto his own mount, the filly that had thrown him the day before, quietly admonishing the horse to behave herself today; and followed the teenager, smiling cheerily to himself. He still could not quite believe the way their lives had all changed. This visit was going to put Kid back into proper spirits—he was sure of it.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"What were you and Uncle Heyes talking about this morning?" Catherine asked her father again. They were sitting side by side in the wagon, heading for town.

"Uncle Heyes?" Kid asked, with a look of surprise.

"Uh, huh. He said I should call him that. What were you talking about," she pressed.

"Hm? Oh, just ranch business," Kid replied nonchalantly.

"Is something wrong?" Catherine pressed.

"No, nothing we can't handle. Hey, speaking of handling, how did Little Beauty do?"

"Oh, she's great. Uncle Heyes said I could name her something else though so now her name's Belle. I think we're going to get along just fine." Catherine smiled happily at the memory of her morning ride.

"Belle, eh? Nice."

"Uncle Heyes showed me all around. We rode up to the ridge and looked down; you can see everything from up there. It's so beautiful here. I wish I could stay forever."

Kid's heart leapt at the words, but he kept his face composed.

"How is your mother?" he asked casually, thinking this would be as good a time as any to bring up the subject. Catherine hadn't mentioned her mother or stepfather since she'd arrived at the ranch and he was beginning to wonder if everything was all right back in New Mexico. He noticed Catherine tense when she heard the question.

"They're fine," she answered glibly, her words arguing against her demeanor. "They're more than fine. They're having a baby." She had turned to look at her father, waiting for his reaction. If she'd been hoping to surprise him, he didn't disappoint.

"Wha…what?" Kid sputtered dumbly. "But I didn't think she could—" He stopped abruptly, not knowing what Catherine knew about her birth.

The girl smiled ruefully. "I know, the doctor told her she couldn't have any more children after she gave birth to me. I didn't know until later though, that my—that Jake blamed me for that."

Eliza's first husband, the man Catherine had believed to be her father, had wanted children, and had become angry and bitter when he was told that Catherine's difficult birth had left Eliza unable to bear more children. His resentment and hate for Kid, Catherine's birth father and, in his mind, the source of his misfortune, came to a head that day, back in Colorado, when Jake tried to kill Kid. Heyes had arrived on the scene, and Jake Walker was the one who had ended up dead. It was after Jakes death that Eliza had taken Catherine and moved to New Mexico, eventually marrying Joseph Wainwright.

"I guess the doctor was wrong," Catherine added with a touch of irony in her voice. "I can't believe she's doing this. She's too old to have a baby, she's thirty-four, for gosh sakes!"

"You know, Catherine, you should be happy for them," he began slowly, being careful not to let his own disappointment show in his voice. He knew he should be happy for Eliza as well, but somewhere in the back of his mind he supposed he'd still held out hope that there might be a place for him in her future, even though he knew how happy she was in her new marriage.

"But she wants me to start helping more with the dressmaking," the girl was saying mournfully. "I don't want to spend all of my time sewing dresses. She has Susana to help, and Carmen is helping now too. She doesn't need me."

"Maybe she just wants you to learn a trade, to follow in her footsteps?" Curry suggested.

"But I don't want to. I don't want to be a dressmaker. I want to be a rancher and raise horses like you and Uncle Heyes." She said the words with such firm conviction that her father could only smile.

"Well, you certainly sound like a young lady that knows what she wants."

"I do. I just wish everybody would stop telling me what to do."

"Well, Catherine, you are only sixteen and –"

"Exactly! Sixteen! That's plenty old enough to be making my own decisions."

Curry watched the girl with a mixture of admiration and dismay. A tiny part of him wished he could help her realize her desire of staying here and working with him on the ranch. But mainly, for right now, he just hoped that he would be able to keep her out of trouble during her summer visit.

Kid slowed the wagon as they came into town, taking time to point out a few of the main spots in town; the mercantile, the feed store, the telegraph office, the school house. He passed by the saloon without mention.

"Let's stop at the mercantile first," Kid suggested, bringing the horses to a stop in front of the store. "That way, you can get your business finished up first. A real nice couple runs the place. You'll like them. Their daughter works here too. If Mrs. Jeffries isn't around, I'm sure Emma will be able to help you out."

Kid jumped down from the wagon, causing a bolt of lightning-bright pain to shoot up into his thigh. Setting his jaw, he held his hand up to help Catherine down. His leg wasn't going to keep him from being a gentleman, and he'd be damned if he'd let her see the pain it caused him.

A silvery tinkle from the tiny gold bell over the door signaled their entrance into the mercantile. A pretty brunette in her mid-twenties looked up from her work over a green financial ledger as they approached, her friendly smile welcoming them.

"Mr. Curry, it's nice to see you again, and this must be your lovely daughter." The young woman was warm and friendly, yet professional. Catherine liked her immediately.

"Yes," Kid smiled proudly at his daughter. "This is Catherine. Catherine, this is Emma Jeffries."

"Hello, Catherine. It's wonderful to have you in our town…and I know how excited your father is for your visit. Now, what can I do for you two?" Emma asked pleasantly.

"Well, Catherine is looking for—"

"Thank you, Pa. But I have a list." Catherine handed Miss Jeffries a slightly crumpled piece of paper that she had pulled from her handbag.

"Please, call me Emma. Now let's see what you have here," she said, taking the list and beginning to read. The two young women bent over the list together and began discussing the various items.

Kid watched them for a few minutes, unable to get close enough to see what was written on the paper. Finally, he sensed that he was going to be of little use here and asked, "Uh, Catherine, did you want me to help you with any of that?"

"Hm? No, I think we'll be fine. Thank you, Pa," she said, dismissively.

"Okay." He stood there, uncertainly, for a few seconds more. "Well then, I suppose I could go on over to the Hay and Feed and load up the wagon."

"That's a good idea, Mr. Curry. It should take about an hour to get through everything here. I have more catalogs in the back if she doesn't see what she's looking for here on the shelves." As an after-thought, Emma added, "I have some beef stew simmering on the stove. Why don't you go get your wagon loaded and then come back for some dinner before driving back out to your ranch?"

"That sounds fine ma'am, thank you, I'll do that."

Kid walked out of the mercantile, his hopes of spending the afternoon with Catherine evaporating like the late-day clouds. He was disappointed in how the day was turning out, first, having to work with Clay while Heyes showed Catherine around the ranch and now being dismissed so the girls could do their 'ladies work'. He'd hardly had a chance to visit with Catherine since she arrived. He tried to content himself with the knowledge that at least Catherine seemed to be enjoying herself, but the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach seemed to weigh him down even more than his damaged leg as he slowly pulled himself into the driver's seat of the wagon.

In front of the feed store, a strongly-built young man was loading a wagon with sacks of grain, tossing them into the bed of the wagon as effortlessly as if they were filled with feathers, instead of grain. Kid found himself absently envying his youth and his healthy body.

"Afternoon," called a voice from just inside the doorway. A balding middle-aged man with a thick Scandinavian accent poked his head out of the door and waved cheerily. "Yust pull on up over dere and I'll be right wit' you."

Kid waved back. "How you doing, Mr. Oldsen? A load of my usual order, when you can get to it,"

"Sure ting, Mr. Curry. I'll have Yeremiah load that up for you as soon as he finishes with Mr. Prescott's order. It'll be about an hour. Is that ok?"

"Yeah, that's fine. I've got time," Kid nodded and climbed down off of the wagon. A year ago he'd have loaded the wagon himself, but since a bullet had shattered the bone in his right leg, even simple tasks like this one had become difficult. His back was plenty strong, but his leg couldn't hold the weight when he tried to carry the heavy sacks. In fact, despite his insistence to the contrary, without the assistance of his cane, his leg could barely hold his own weight. The doc had said he was lucky to be walking, and that the bone would continue to become stronger over time. Kid was not, however, a patient man when it came to his own limitations.

"Hey. Are you Kid Curry?" A voice from behind startled him and he turned to see Mr. Oldsen's hired man standing there, waiting expectantly for Kid to say something.

Kid nodded slowly and studied the other man for a moment. He looked about nineteen or twenty, with jet black hair combed straight back and falling over his shirt collar. They were just about the same height, standing eye to eye with each other. The younger man's eyes were a piercing blue, not unlike Kid's own, and he suspected they could hold the same intense glare if the man had a mind to. The question had not been threatening, but there was an edge to his voice that bothered Kid. '_Probably just youthful arrogance_,' he thought.

"Man, I sure heard stories about you when I was a kid. Never thought I'd meet you face to face," he said as he picked up another bag of grain, effortlessly hoisting it over his shoulder and moving it onto the waiting wagon. "Think maybe I could hear about some of your adventures sometime?" The young man grinned.

Kid had the feeling the boy was mocking him a little but his face remained passive as he answered, "Heyes is the storyteller, not me. I'll be back in about an hour." He turned and headed toward the saloon. He closed his eyes and wondered for the thousandth time, when anyone in this town—or anywhere else—was going to give him a break. Well, he knew one place where he was always welcome.

Jed Curry entered the saloon with two things on his mind. The first was whiskey. The second was currently sitting at a bar table, sandwiched between two clinging cowboys who'd be hard-pressed to be pressed any closer to her; both with their hands roaming over places that a decent woman wouldn't tolerate, at least not in public. Genevieve saw Kid as soon as he walked in to the saloon. Their eyes locked, the hunger in his barely concealed as he stared, first at her and then at the two saddle-bums she was with, finally returning back to her. Genevieve smiled wickedly, knowing without a doubt what Kid was thinking.

Kid dragged his eyes off her, and limped heavily to the bar. He dug four bits out of his shirt pocket, putting it on the counter. The bar tender brought the bottle; he knew what Kid Curry drank and didn't have to wait to be told. He poured a couple fingers of the amber liquid into a glass and set it in front of Kid, who wasted no time. He grabbed it, brought it to his lips, and drained the glass, barely tasting it but definitely feeling the burn as it traveled down into his stomach. "Hit me again," he said to the man behind the bar, without looking up from the glass.

"Hi, Cowboy," a voice purred from off his left shoulder. Slowly, he turned his head to look, his lips pursed in feigned indifference that didn't fool her for a second. Genevieve was standing there, her hands behind her back, staring at him coquettishly, a look that she had trouble pulling off, given her profession and her reputation. Kid glanced over her shoulder at the two young cowpokes she'd been sitting with. Neither man looked pleased and Kid couldn't care less.

He grinned, his eyes smoldering darkly, letting the men know who was first on Genevieve's mind. He slung his left arm over her shoulder and roughly pulled her close. She responded by wrapping her arms loosely around his waist and rubbing herself against his hip. His hand dropped to her breast and he grabbed her, letting her know who was first on his mind. She purred softly, breathing warm breath on his ear. He could feel her respond to his touch through the silky fabric of her low-cut dress.

The two of them were wrapped up in each other, figuratively and literally. Therefore, neither noticed the two neglected saddle-tramps come up behind them. Kid's arm was suddenly wrenched away from his prize as the younger of the two men grabbed him and spun him away from the bar. They stood nose to nose with each other. The other man, a little older than the first, stood behind his buddy, looking nervously excited.

"Hey, old man. The lady was with us," the cowboy challenged, his bravado drawing the attention of half the people in the bar. Before a few seconds had passed, the other half of the people in the bar had noticed the change in decibels in the room and had fallen silent as well.

"Is that right?" Kid said. He gently shoved Genevieve away, removing her from the confrontation. She stood a few steps behind him, the smile never leaving her ruby painted lips. Her eyes shone with ill-concealed excitement. "I don't recall forcing her to come over her. Maybe she wasn't with you as much as you thought she was."

"I say she was," the young cowboy said, his hand twitching over his holstered gun.

A voice called out from somewhere in the crowd. "Hey, Sy. You got any idea who you're messing with?"

Sy's eyes jerked nervously. "I guess I do. Some old man," he repeated, not quite as sure of himself as he had been a few seconds before.

"Claude," this time, the voice addressed itself to the older of the two cowboys. "You might want to tell Sy that the 'old man' he's about to get into a gun fight with is Kid Curry."

Sy's eyes widened, his bravado all but gone. Without thinking, he stepped backwards, away from Kid, thereby signaling the end of the confrontation. At the first mention of 'Kid Curry', Claude had left the building. Sy didn't waste any time joining his friend out in the street.

The excitement over, the noise in the bar slowly returned to its former level. No one seemed to notice the disappointed look on Genevieve's face at the prematurely circumvented confrontation; and no one noticed the tension that remained in Kid's demeanor. His anger and frustration had not left the building when Sy and Claude did; and he didn't know what was more upsetting to him, the altercation he had found himself in through no fault of his own or the fact that even though he and Heyes had their amnesty, his reputation was still here and probably would never be forgotten.

He came into the bar thinking he wanted only two things, but now it turned out he wanted more. He wanted people to forget about his past, he wanted to be accepted for who he was, and he wanted someone to care about him. Frustration and sadness welled up inside him. For now he would settle for simply forgetting, if only for a little while. Without saying a word, he grabbed Genevieve by the arm; more roughly than she deserved but not more roughly than she enjoyed; and pulled her after him up the stairs.

---

Not one, but nearly two hours had gone by when Kid finally returned to the mercantile for Catherine. Guilt gnawed at him while he walked back from the saloon to collect his wagon, finding that it had been stacked and loaded by Jeremiah while Kid laid with Genevieve. When he got back to the store and saw Catherine's face, clouded with worry, the guilt stopped gnawing and bit down hard on his conscience.

"Where were you, Pa?" Catherine asked when she saw her father enter the store. Frustration was evident in her voice. "Emma and I ate without you and when you still didn't return, I walked over to the feed store to find you but you weren't there. And since I don't know anyone else in town, I came back her to wait for you."

"I… uh, had a couple other chores to take care of. I'm sorry, I guess I lost track of time."

Kid glanced at Emma and wasn't sure if it was a look of reproach that he saw in her eyes or merely the reflection of his own conscience. Could she know what 'errand' had kept him from returning for his only daughter when he said he would? He couldn't hold her gaze; guilt drove his eyes downward.

Catherine, with the resilience of youth, didn't dwell on her worry, now that her father had finally re-appeared. "Well, that's all right. Anyway, I met a really nice boy when I went looking for you. I can't wait to tell you about him, Pa." She smiled happily, her face aglow with the memory of the young man. Kid felt faintly uncomfortable with the look on her face. Suddenly, shifting gears, she said briskly, "Well, we're all finished here. Are you ready to go?"

"Whenever you are…You found everything you wanted here?"

"Almost everything. And Emma helped me order the rest from her catalogs." She smiled at Emma. It seemed the two of them had become fast friends during the time they'd spent together, shopping and dining.

"It was lovely meeting you, Catherine. You have your Pa drive you back into town in about two weeks and the fabric we ordered from San Francisco will be here."

Kid tipped his hat politely at Emma. "Thank you very much, ma'am. I appreciate you taking care of Catherine."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. Curry. We had a lovely time. I hope you found everything you needed in town?"

"Uh, yes ma'am, thank you," Kid looked down self-consciously and held the door open for Catherine, who was carrying two small bundles wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.

"Well, that was fun," Catherine said, satisfaction over her successful shopping excursion ringing through her voice, as she settled onto the buckboard next to her father. "Now all I have to do is decide which dress to wear to the church social on Saturday."

"Church social? Did Emma tell you about that? I wasn't really planning on—"

"Oh, but Pa, we simply must go! I told Jeremiah I'd be there. I'd die of embarrassment if I broke my promise to him!"

"Jeremiah?" Kid asked, momentarily confused.

"The boy I met at the feed store, when I went there looking for you," Catherine reminded him patiently. She gazed off dreamily toward the mountains, the far-away look in her eyes letting Kid know that, in her thoughts, she was still back in town, in front of the feed store. "Jeremiah Wilde."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Catherine sat on the fence, one foot on the cross beam and the other dangling free, as she had each of the last three mornings; silently and intently watching the morning ritual of Heyes and Prometheus. Sometimes the two would just stare at each other from across the corral, other times Heyes would walk up to the animal and they would just stand that way, face to face, neither one moving or making a sound. This morning however, Heyes was leading the horse around the corral by a rope lead. The horse was walking calmly along beside Heyes as if the two were out for a morning stroll. As Heyes passed Catherine's perch on the fence, he looked up at the girl and smiled.

"I think he's beginning to trust me," he said, the excitement evident in his voice.

Catherine nodded and smiled back. "You're working with him just like Carmen's father does."

"Oh, really?" Heyes asked, his curiosity piqued. He walked away from the sleek gray stallion and leaned against the fence next to Catherine, his elbows resting comfortably on the railing on which she sat.

"Yes, he calls it—well he has a name for it in Spanish—but it means gentling. He says that you can make a horse obey by making him afraid, but you only get his loyalty by earning his trust."

"Jorge said that?" Heyes asked, remembering the Mexican man who had loaned Heyes his own horse so that he could follow the kidnappers who had taken Catherine. "Wise man."

"It's not a new idea," Heyes said, looking at the large animal, now calmly standing a few feet away and watching him back with large black eyes. "Too bad more people don't understand that. They keep thinking they have to strike fear into animals to get them to cooperate." He turned away and looked toward the mountains; his eyes took on a far away look. "People can be motivated by fear too. Sometimes that's all you've got."

"Is that how you got people on the trains to give you their money?" she asked quietly, broaching the subject she'd been avoiding since first getting to know the two men.

If Heyes was surprised by the question, he didn't show it. He continued to look toward the mountains but nodded slightly. "Yep, that's part of it. But mostly it's how we tried to keep people from getting hurt. If they were scared enough, they wouldn't try anything stupid. It kept us alive too. With the kind of men we were around most of the time, and the money we had on us sometimes, that fear protected us. Some of 'em had never even met your pa, but they were afraid of his reputation." A small smile played at his lips. "I can't tell you how many times I was at a poker table or in a saloon somewhere and just the thought that your pa might be around somewhere kept the other men from trying anything."

"But you don't need that anymore, either one of you. He seems…sad when people are afraid of him now," Catherine said quietly.

"I think you're right, but it's hard to change people's opinions." Heyes sighed and looked back at Catherine.

"But, you were never afraid of him were you?" she asked nervously.

Heyes laughed, the question filling him with amused surprise until he realized how serious she was in asking it. His face took on a somber expression to match the one he saw in the girl's own. "Of course not—never. I trusted him completely…with my life. Still do," he added softly.

"I was…a little afraid of him, when I first met him," she admitted, talking to the ground in front of her feet, ashamed to say it out loud. After a second she glanced apprehensively at Heyes, looking for his reaction.

To her relief, he merely nodded reassuringly, no judgment or recrimination in his face. "You didn't know him then so it's understandable. But you're not afraid of him now are you?"

"No, of course not, but…I don't know, I don't really understand him either. And I can't talk to him like I can talk to you."

Heyes merely nodded. "Well…" he began, "Kid never was much for talking about things. He's more for doing." Heyes and Catherine fell into companionable silence for a few seconds. Then Heyes pushed himself away from the railing on which he was leaning and said, "Catherine, what do you say we go for a ride? Can you saddle up Belle and that little filly of mine while I finish up here?"

"Sure," the girl agreed readily, "but…when will you be able to ride Prometheus?"

"I'm not sure, Catherine. He'll let me know when he's ready."

It was an odd thing for a man to say about a horse, but Catherine merely nodded her understanding as she set off for the stable to saddle the horses.

---

"Catherine…did I ever tell you about the time your pa risked his life to save a man from getting lynched—a bounty hunter—who had just tried to take us in?"

The two were riding side by side along the edge of the property line, Heyes telling the girl stories of the Kid, stories he hoped would help her understand who her father really was.

"Hey, look at that," Catherine squinted into the morning sun.

"Uh huh, I saw it," Heyes replied solemnly. He had seen the open gate of their north corral as they'd approached. The horses that Clay had moved there a few days before were strewn out along the slope down toward the river—on Denton property.

"What do we do?" the girl asked, glancing uncertainly at Heyes.

"Only one thing we can do…go get our horses," He replied, a look of determination on his face.

As they rode down the hill toward their horses, Heyes suddenly became aware of three riders approaching from the other side of the river. He quickly signaled for Catherine to slow down as they approached. "Stay calm, just let me do the talking," He cautioned.

"Why? What do you think is going to happen?"

"Nothing. But you can never be too sure."

When the riders got close enough to hear, Heyes said, "Howdy boys, we just came down to retrieve our horses. As you can plainly see, they're right down there by the river." Heyes gave the three men one of his most innocent and charming smiles, although his eyes never left the rifle barrel and two six-guns pointed in their direction. He recognized Zeke, Denton's foreman, but didn't know the two younger men.

"You're on Denton property," Zeke said, his rifle still aimed at Heyes.

"Well, of course we know that. I just explained to you that some of our horses got loose and wandered down here. Now, if you'd just lower those guns we'll go round 'em up."

Zeke lowered the rifle, a little too slowly and reluctantly for Heyes' taste, and gave a nod to the two younger men to put their guns away. "We're out looking for a horse thief," he explained. "One of Mr. Denton's best young colts disappeared last night and we figure the thief can't have gotten too far. Since no one has seen any strangers hanging around town lately, we're not ruling out any possibilities," he gave Heyes a warning look and then glanced over at the young man to his left. "Sy, you go with Mr. Heyes and help him round up his animals. Make sure he only takes his. Claude, you come with me, we have more territory to cover."

The two men rode off while Sy remained, giving Heyes a menacing look. "You go get 'em, I'll watch from right here. Don't think I want to turn my back to you." The man reached down and drew his gun, which he kept lowered, but the gesture alone implied a threat.

Heyes' smile was wearing thin. "Why on earth would you say that?" Heyes asked, forcing his voice to remain pleasant. "I've never given anyone on this ranch reason to think I'd give them any trouble."

"No, but your partner Kid Curry—he threatened to shoot Claude and me in the saloon a few days ago."

Catherine had remained completely silent up to that point, but Heyes heard her give an audible gasp at the last remark.

"Sy, my partner doesn't go around threatening people—at least not unless he has a real good reason. We mind our own business and we work our ranch. That's all we've been doin' for three years now. If your boss has a problem with us, you tell him to come see me and we'll work it out—like gentlemen, not with guns." Heyes spat out the last word as he looked down at Sy's six-gun.

"Come on Catherine, let's get what belongs to us and get out of here."

They silently herded the horses back up the hill toward their corral. Heyes dismounted and closed the gate after the last horse was in. Catherine had not spoken since they'd ridden away from Denton's gun-toting ranch hand.

"What did he mean?" she asked finally when they were headed back to the house.

Heyes knew what she was referring to, but didn't know how to answer her.

"I have no idea. Did anything happen when you two were in town on Tuesday?"

"No, nothing like what he said, except…"

"What?" Heyes turned quickly to look into the girl's face.

"Well, we weren't together the whole time. He left to go to the feed store, and he was gone a lot longer than he said he'd be. When I went to look for him I couldn't find him and…then he came back and we headed home."

Heyes felt a knot begin to form in his stomach. '_The Kid wouldn't go off and do something stupid would he? He had been suspicious of Denton, but he wouldn't go threaten his men…would he?' _Curry had been not quite himself since Catherine's arrival, but Heyes attributed that to a slight disappointment over the high expectations the Kid had set for his daughter's visit. He'd talk to his partner when they got back to the ranch, sort all this out.

---

"What the hell were you doing in town this afternoon?" Heyes demanded as soon as Catherine had gone into the house and was out of earshot.

Curry looked up from where he sat mending one of the leather straps from a harness. His initial look of confusion was quickly replaced by one of guilt and regret.

"Aw, Heyes, I know I shouldn't have done it. I felt bad about it afterwards, but I was frustrated, just needed to let off a little steam, ya know?"

A look of confusion crossed over Heyes' face. "I don't believe you! You threaten to kill two men and you call it letting off steam?"

Kid blinked and stared at his friend. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, suddenly looking confused again.

"What are you talking about?" Heyes shot back.

"I went into the saloon while Catherine was at the shopping." He stared back at Heyes with a blank look.

"We ran into a couple of Denton's new hands this morning. They said you threatened to shoot them in the saloon."

"What? Oh…" he groaned and rolled his eyes.

Heyes continued to stare at his partner as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Heyes, I never threatened to kill anybody, and I had no idea those two guys worked for Denton."

Heyes relaxed slightly.

"Well, what were you doing then?"

"They…were talking to one of the girls and then she came over to see me and they…sort of took offense." He looked back a bit sheepishly.

Understanding began to dawn in Heyes' eyes.

"Oh, so you moved in on their territory and…"

"Heyes, I didn't move in on anybody. She came over to me and they wanted to make something out of it. But I didn't draw my gun and I didn't threaten them." Then more quietly he added, "Didn't have to. Somebody told 'em who I was and they left, quick as rabbits."

"And that was it?"

"That was it," he said firmly, blue eyes flashing. "And if you don't believe me, you can go down and ask—"

"Kid, I don't have to ask anybody, I believe you. Those two must have exaggerated the story some."

"Yeah," Kid scoffed, "them and everybody else."

He turned and headed toward the barn.

"Hey, where're you going?"

"I'm gonna take this harness back into the barn and finish up with the others, so we can hitch up our wagon for the church social tomorrow night."

Heyes could tell Kid still felt burned by his accusations and tried to call an apology after him. "Kid, I didn't mean—" but the other man had already disappeared through the barn door.

Heyes shook his head, silently reprimanding himself for being so quick to jump on the Kid. He didn't need that. Not now and especially not from him.

---

"Kid, there's more."

The voice from behind him gave him a start. He hadn't even heard Heyes walk into the barn.

"What?" he turned around quickly. "Is it Catherine? Was she there when you ran into those two from the saloon?"

"Yeah, she was there, but that wasn't what I wanted to talk to you about. We found the gate open to our north corral and all the horses that Clay took up there were down by the river on Denton's side."

Curry narrowed his eyes. "Did you get 'em all?" he asked with concern.

"Yeah, we rounded 'em up, got 'em back in the corral, but Kid—Zeke said another one of Denton's horses was stolen last night."

"Oh, so it's 'stolen' now, not just missing? See, Heyes, I told you there was bound to be trouble."

"Maybe so," Heyes conceded. "I think it's best if we don't let Catherine go riding by herself right now. If someone's out there stealing horses…"

Curry nodded. "What do you want to do about Denton?"

"Nothing, for now. Maybe I'll ride out and talk to him in a few days, see what he's thinking."

"I'll tell you what he's thinking—he's thinking that Heyes and Curry are adding to their herd," he muttered.

"Well, I'll have a talk with him. If we're not taking those horses, somebody else is, so he should know to be on the look-out for strangers."

-----

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	8. Chapter 8

Sorry for the delay in posting, we've been working around vacations and summer schedules. Please read and review!

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Heyes, Kid and Catherine followed the sounds of laughter and music; sometimes passing, sometimes being passed by, other groups of excited folks all headed toward the same place—town hall—which sat smack dab in the center of Pine Bluff. As they got closer, they could see glimmers of light shining through its big, square-paned windows and an even larger glow coming from the double doors at the front of the building; doors that had been blocked wide open to catch the cool night breezes and funnel them through to flow through and exit at a set of matching double doors that also stood open at the rear of the building.

Catherine had built up so much anticipation over the social that she looked as though she might begin dancing even before she found a partner. Heyes could tell she was trying to contain her excitement, probably figuring that it wouldn't be right for a mature woman of sixteen to act so giddy. He would have been tempted to laugh, watching her, if he wasn't so worried about how Kid was acting.

Kid didn't share Catherine's excitement and eagerness. In fact, if Heyes had to guess at the expression on Kid's face, he would have said that his partner was barely containing his panic at having to attend the dance. He had the look of a horse that was ready to bolt, right down to his twitchy eyes and nervous gait. Heyes didn't understand what was going on with Kid these days. He'd never been one to be nervous, or at least not one to let on that he was nervous. Hell, Kid had always been as steady as a rock. Something had changed in the Kid and Heyes wasn't sure if it had more to do with getting the amnesty and settling down here or if it was more a result of the injury to his leg and how long it was taking for him to recover. Whatever the cause, Kid just didn't seem to have the confidence in himself that was so much a part of his personality—and that was troubling.

"Relax, Kid," he said under his breath, making sure Catherine didn't hear.

Kid swiveled his head to stare at his partner, not comprehending what he was saying. "Huh?"

"I said relax. We're gonna have a good time tonight. Just take it easy."

Kid glowered, his face only partially visible in the evening glow. "A good time you say? Maybe you'll have a good time. I hate these things."

"Well then, try to pretend you're having a good time will ya? For Catherine's sake."

"Don't you—"

His words were cut off by the feel of Catherine's small hand in his larger, rougher one. The sudden contact with her cool, dry hand made him realize how clammy his own palms had become. Heyes was right. He needed to relax.

He looked down at his young daughter, the top of her curled and coifed head level with his shoulder. She was looking back up at him, beaming. On Catherine's other side, holding her other hand was Heyes; also smiling down at the young girl, reveling in her reflected joy over being here with them on this night. Heyes looked up and met his eyes. He answered his smile with one of his own, but it felt unnatural on his lips. _'Relax,'_ he told himself, taking a deep breath. _'I've faced death at the barrel of a gun and a dance is making me break out in a cold sweat. Relax.'_ This last was more a command than a suggestion as he took one more deep breath, letting it out slowly through clenched teeth.

Leaving the darkness outside, they were bathed in the cool glow from the lamps strategically placed against the walls inside the hall. They paused just inside the doorway to take a quick look around. From the size of the crowd, it seemed like the whole town of Pine Bluff was in attendance.

Individually, they each seemed to be searching the crowd for someone, unaware that the other two were doing the same. Before Kid realized what had happened, both Heyes and Catherine had wandered off through the sea of people dressed in their Sunday best, leaving him standing by himself near the entrance. He tried to call after them, but before he found his voice, he knew they were out of earshot, what with all the other noises filling the spaces in the room. Suddenly, his admonition to himself to relax had been for nothing as he felt himself tense up again. What he really wanted was a shot of whiskey, but knew that the only libations served at this function would be non-alcoholic.

Across the room, he could see Heyes moving amongst the people, greeting almost everyone he met, man or woman alike, as though they were old friends. He'd stop and chat briefly with this person, longer with the next, before moving on again. _'Should'a been a politician instead of a bank robber,'_ Kid thought acidly watching his best friend, envious of the ease he felt, whereas he himself stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, where to look, what false expression to plaster on his face; and wondering when he had become this person, wondering where and when his confidence had deserted him. The room seemed hotter than it should be and he was considering, seriously considering, leaving. Heyes could watch out for Catherine—and it seemed unlikely that either one would even miss him.

He scanned the room again, looking for Catherine. Finally, he spotted his daughter near the middle of the room. He was about to move to join her when he noticed she was already deep in conversation with the young man from the feed store. 'What did she say his name was? Something Wilde, I think.' Kid felt unexpectedly and unreasonably irritated to see the two young people together. Maybe it was because of how close the two stood, the boy a head taller than his young daughter and leaning in close to talk, his hip jutted out in a casual stance. Maybe it was the way she listened, her ear turned slightly toward his mouth while she leaned toward him in return. Maybe it was the blush that spread across her smooth cheeks at whatever the boy 'Jeremiah, that's what she called him,' was saying that made him want to go over and push him away.

Then Jeremiah reached out and took Catherine's hand, leading her out to the middle of the dance floor, where they stopped and, facing her, placed his hand familiarly on her waist, and then they began to dance, keeping time with the music, moving effortlessly and gracefully across the floor among the other couples. A ripple of what Kid suspected was jealousy shivered through his gut.

Sighing, he frowned unhappily. His hope that he and Catherine would spend some time together this evening was fading fast and he was feeling even more out of place. Indecisively, he glanced over his shoulder. The big double doors and the soothing darkness beyond them beckoned him but he was reluctant to leave Catherine alone, especially now that she was in the company of a young man.

Then, from across the room, his eyes locked on Emma Jeffries. She was standing alone near the refreshments table and looked genuinely happy to see him. She smiled and waved demurely, and after a quick glance around, as though looking for someone, started making her way his direction through the sea of swaying people. After a short hesitation, he started walking too, planning to meet her part way.

Emma looked radiant and relaxed in a powder blue party dress. Her face was flushed a pretty pink either from the heat or from excitement and she wore her hair loose around her shoulders, except for the locks that were pulled back and tied with a blue bow that matched her dress perfectly. Kid couldn't remember when he'd seen her looking more beautiful.

"I'm so happy to see you decided to come, Mr. Curry. Are you here with someone?" she asked, laying her hand on his arm and leaning close so that she could be heard above the music. The touch sent an unreasonably strong thrill through Kid's body which he tried to ignore.

Leaning down to bring his lips closer to her ear, he nodded and said, "My daughter. And Heyes." Then the music suddenly stopped, leaving his words hanging in the air. People started moving off the dance floor, wandering in groups to the punch and cookies set out on the long table at the end of the room or out the doors at either end of the hall to catch a few moments of fresh air, smiling and laughing. Other people stayed where they were, in groups of two or three or more, mingling and chatting while the band took a much-deserved break.

In the new, relative silence, Kid suddenly noticed how close he was standing to Emma and with reluctance, took a step back. "I'm here with Catherine and Heyes," he repeated, unsure of what else to say.

"That's wonderful. I hope you're having a good time."

"Uh, well, we just got here a few minutes ago. To tell the truth, I was thinking about leaving."

"Leaving?" she said, surprised. "Why would you leave if you just got here? Don't tell me you still think you're too old to have a good time here?"

"No, it's not that so much, ma'am."

"I'm very glad to hear that at least," she teased him gently. "So what then? Why do you want to deprive all the women of this town of your company?"

"That's very kind of you, Miss Jeffries. But I don't think I'd be depriving them of much. I don't dance much any more, remember?"

"Well, Mr. Curry, there's more to being good company than just dancing," she said, smiling up at him.

Kid was about to reply to her gentle flirting when he sensed another person standing behind his shoulder, just out of his line of sight. Emma's eyes shifted from his face; Kid thought he saw her smile slip a bit; to the man standing there just as it registered with Kid—Sheriff Caldwell was looking at Emma, holding two crystal cups filled with ruby-red sparkling punch. He held one cup out to her and she accepted it with a murmured thanks. With his newly-freed hand, the sheriff wrapped his arm somewhat possessively around the young woman's shoulders, making sure Kid recognized the meaning behind his actions. His eyes locked on Kid's, and he was sure the man was mocking him.

"Curry," he said, by way of a greeting, his lips set in a thin line. Kid didn't reply, only nodded slowly, his eyes cold. Emma glanced quickly between the two men, not knowing what to say. Before she can find the words, the band began playing again, the lively notes of a familiar polka filling the room. "May I have this dance," the sheriff smiled at Emma as he took the cup from her hands. Adding another injury to Kid's already wounded pride, Caldwell thrust both cups at Kid, who instinctively reached out to take them, and then twirled Emma away from him, leaving him alone, holding onto the half-empty cups. Kid fumed, angry at himself for ever agreeing to come to this event. He lifted first one cup, and then the other, to his lips, draining them of their contents, slamming them down a little too loudly on a convenient table.

Frustrated and ready to go, he looked once again for his family. To his dismay, Catherine was once again dancing with Jeremiah, who had his arm wrapped tightly, a little too tightly to suit Kid, around her waist. From where he stood, the couple looked almost as though they were floating lightly over the ground instead of across it. He sighed, wondering if this was how Catherine acted back home, and if it wasn't, how he was going to explain all this to her mother.

With Catherine romantically occupied, Kid's only remaining hope for salvation was his ever-present best friend, Hannibal Heyes. But when Kid finally found him in the crowd, Heyes was on the dance floor too. No longer engaged in small talk with assorted townsfolk, Heyes had found a dance partner and the two of them were merrily circling the floor, twirling to the frenzied polka beat that the band pounded out with gusto.

Kid recognized Heyes' lady as Charlotte Gray, the school teacher. Her brown hair was up off her shoulders, but it wasn't tied into the spinster's knot that she'd been wearing the last time he'd seen her, at the ranch. Tonight, it was piled up on top of her head in feminine curls, softening her schoolmarm appearance. Still, he didn't understand why Heyes seemed so interested in her. Each time he caught a glimpse of his friend's face as he spun his partner around the dance floor, he was struck by how happy Heyes looked, and it irritated him.

Finally, Kid got tired of watching Heyes and Catherine and their dance partners and limped over to one of the straight-backed chairs lining the edge of the dance floor. His leg felt heavier than he remembered it being when he first walked into the hall. "I thought nobody danced at these things," he grumbled under his breath, taking his chair with a groan, feeling old and alone.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The polka ended, giving the dancers a few seconds to cool down before the music started again. The next song had a much slower tempo, an easier pace, a song for slow-dancing. Heyes couldn't have been much happier or more content than he was at that moment. He had Charlotte right where he wanted her, in his arms, and he intended to keep her there for just a while longer. In fact, using the pressure of his hand on the small of her back, he pulled her even closer, until there was just a breath of space between them. He could feel her hair on his cheek and smell her perfume. She smelled just as he imagined she would, clean like soap with a fragrance that reminded him of orange blossoms. He inhaled of her deeply, closing his eyes, allowing himself to immerse himself in her scent for a few short seconds.

When he opened his eyes, he was startled to see her looking up at him, amusement making her eyes sparkle enchantingly. "What were you thinking of just then, Mr. Heyes?"

"Orange blossoms," he said. "I was thinking how sweet the air is when the orange trees are in bloom. I can almost smell them now."

"Um, sounds nice. I've never experienced that myself. I've never lived anywhere else but here. My life has been very dull compared to yours, I suspect."

"Oh, I doubt if you'd ever be accused of being dull. And my life is not something I'd wish on anyone; my life before, at least." His voice betrayed a hint of melancholy that made her heart constrict. She looked into his eyes, searching for some indication of what he was feeling, but if he was feeling anything but happy, his eyes didn't reveal it.

"I'd like to bring you to California when the orange trees are in bloom some time," he said, looking back into her eyes. "I have some people there who I think you'd find very interesting. Not a dull one in the bunch."

"Tell me about them."

"You want me to tell you about them?"

"Yes. I'd love to hear about the people who've influenced you."

He laughed, delighted by her curiosity, but not surprised by it; she was a school teacher, after all. "I'll tell you…but only if you agree to take a walk with me. It's a lovely evening outside; and a little warm in here, don't you think?"

She hesitated momentarily and Heyes knew she was thinking about what others would think about her taking a walk alone with him. He also knew that she hated herself for worrying about it. "I'd be honored to walk with you, Mr. Heyes," she said, finally, her feelings winning out over respectability.

Releasing her hand from his own, Heyes offered her his arm, bowing slightly from the waist, and with her tacit permission, led her off the dance floor, past the refreshment table, and through the big double doors at the rear of the hall out into the cool night air. They walked in companionable silence for a little while, passing other couples who had had the same idea as Heyes and Charlotte.

"So teach me," she said.

"What?" he replied, not comprehending.

"Tell me about California and the people who live there."

"Oh, that," he laughed. "Well, let's see. There's Jim Santana and Clara Philips. Now they're an interesting couple. He was the leader of the Devil's Hole Gang before I took it over, and then again for a little while after Kid and I decided to go for the amnesty. Jim is a fearsome man, the perfect man to keep a band of rowdy and incorrigible outlaws in line actually."

"And you?"

"Me?" he said, wondering if he would ever be able to learn to figure out where her questions were going.

"How did you keep a band of incorrigible outlaws in line? You are many things, Hannibal, but fearsome doesn't seem to be one of them."

He laughed, unexpectedly pleased by her use of his Christian name, before saying, "I wasn't always this way, Charlotte. There have been times and places that I'm sure even you would have found me fearsome; if for no other reason than I always had Kid at my side."

She studied his face quietly for a few seconds, believing him, knowing just by looking into his eyes that what he was saying was true; he could be fearsome, at the right time and in the right circumstances. She also knew that she'd like to talk more about that with him sometime, but this was neither the right time nor the right circumstances.

"And her? Mrs. Philips?"

"Clara Philips is a perfect match for Big Jim. She tricked me into taking her into Devil's Hole on the pretense of looking for her husband there, when all she really wanted to do was get revenge—kill—a man who had taken advantage of her and stolen several thousands of dollars of her jewelry."

"Oh my. She sounds very treacherous."

"She truly was, and very single-minded." Heyes remembered how determined Clara was to kill Henderson. If he and Jim hadn't been there, she would have succeeded. "Then there's Alice Banyon and Gunther, another interesting couple. She tried running off with a hundred thousand dollars worth of gold bars, the loot from a robbery."

"She was an outlaw?"

"Not exactly. She was just trying to capitalize on some information she got from a friend of ours who had been part of a bunch who stole the gold and ended getting hung for his crime. Everything turned out fine though. She came to her senses finally and the four of us ended up splitting the reward for returning the loot."

"Fascinating. You've met some very exciting women, haven't you?"

"None nearly as exciting as—as you might think, Charlotte."

"Mr. Heyes—"

"Please. Just Heyes, all right? Or Hannibal, like you said before. Mr. Heyes is too formal. I think we know each other too well for so much formality, don't you?"

"Oh, I don't know. I don't feel like I really know you at all. And I'm sure you don't know me as well as you'd like to believe."

"Really? Well then, tell me. Tell me all about Charlotte."

"Alright then. I DO feel like I need to tell you something, Heyes. I don't want you to get the wrong idea, but please don't think me too forward if I've misjudged your feelings."

Heyes felt his heart sink in his chest, sure he already knew what she was going to tell him before she even said a word. "You can tell me anything, Charlotte."

"All right then…I've been a teacher for a long time, Heyes. It's all I've ever wanted to be."

"I think that's admirable."

"Let me finish please. I've had—opportunities—before to have a different type of life, but I've always declined because I have everything I want right now. I love sharing my knowledge and love of learning with my children. There's nothing quite like the look on a young face when they realize there is nothing they can't achieve with the proper education."

"Still admirable. But why are you telling me this? I'm glad you enjoy your work, Charlotte."

"But that's just my point—Teaching isn't just my work, Heyes. It's my life. It's the only thing I've ever wanted to do and I don't plan to ever stop being a teacher."

"All right," he said, slowly. Puzzled, he asked her, "I still don't understand, Charlotte. Why are you telling me all this?"

"Oh dear," she said, a frown creasing her forehead, "Maybe I have misjudged your feelings. Well, there's no going back now so I might as well just say it. Heyes, I would never leave my students to become some man's wife."

His eyes widened, her forthrightness taking him by surprise. A short laugh leapt to his lips. "That's alright," was all he managed to reply.

She looked at him uncertainly, the meaning of his words unclear to her. He added quickly, "Look, Charlotte, I'm not asking you to marry me."

"Of course not," she said, heat rising in her cheeks. "I wasn't implying—"

"But—if you were my wife—someday, I'd never ask you to stop being who you are."

"Oh," she answered, unable to come up with a more eloquent answer. "Well—"

"Let's not talk about that now. Let's just enjoy tonight. And take things as they come."

"Fine. But, I just have to say one more thing, just so we're both clear on what I mean." She took a deep breath. "It's been my experience that most men don't want their wives to work once their married. I just want you to know that I will always be a teacher."

"That's fair. Thank you for telling me, Charlotte. And for the record," he said, grasping her gently by her shoulders, turning her until she faced him squarely, "I'm not like 'most men.' Just so you know." The intensity of his stare was enough to make her breath catch in her throat, but it was the kiss that followed that made her heart hammer against her chest so hard she imagined he felt it too.

Kid stopped trying to even pretend that he was having a good time. He was at a dance when he couldn't dance and he wasn't feeling the least bit sociable. He considered leaving, but if he took the buggy then Heyes and Catherine would have no way to get home. His mind started drifting down the streets of town, wandering toward the saloon, wondering what Genevieve was doing tonight. A sad smile played across his lips as he imagined having her there with him, two outcasts at the church social. His mind was so far away from where he sat that he didn't notice Catherine until she was standing right in front of him. Jeremiah stood at her side, his hat in his hands in a respectful pose, smiling at Kid politely. Catherine wore a brilliant smile of her own; her face flushed by the excitement of the dance and the attention of a young man.

Embarrassed to be caught lost in thoughts of Genevieve, Kid stood up hastily, not wanting to be towered over by the young man standing next to his daughter. Catherine reached out to offer her arm to her father, increasing, without intention, his embarrassment. He pretended not to see her, choosing instead to use his cane. She was so happy, she didn't notice. "Pa. You remember Jeremiah? Jeremiah Wilde?"

Jeremiah extended his hand, "Nice to see you again, Mr. Curry."

Kid took the younger man's hand and nodded. "Yeah," he replied, wondering what was so nice about it.

"Pa, I was just telling Jeremiah about how you and Uncle Heyes are short-handed on the ranch right now, and by coincidence, Jeremiah just happens to be looking for a new job. Isn't that great?"

Kid frowned, wondering what was so great about it. He knew where Catherine was going with her comments, but he didn't think he wanted young Jeremiah working on the ranch, so close to his even younger daughter. He started to think that maybe he wasn't cut out for this fatherhood role he had so recently found himself in; being a gunfighter was starting to seem like a cakewalk in comparison. "I thought you were working for Oldsen down at the feed store," he asked Jeremiah.

"Yes, sir, but that was only temporary; until I could find some ranch work."

"You've done ranch work before?"

"Sure, plenty."

"Where was your last job?" Kid's questions were short and to the point.

"I worked for your neighbor, Mr. Denton, before I started helping out Mr. Oldsen."

Kid felt the muscles between his shoulder blades stiffen at the mention of Denton's name. "Why'd you leave?"

Jeremiah's eyes shifted away from Kid's. Kid thought he read guilt in his expression but his next words made him wonder if the emotion he'd glimpsed in Jeremiah's face was more akin to embarrassment for having to speak poorly of his past employer. "Well'uh…Mr. Denton and I just had a difference of opinion on a couple of things."

"Oh? You have trouble following directions, young fella?"

Jeremiah's look was one of wide-eyed innocence. "No, sir, not at all…It's just that…well, some of the things Mr. Denton wanted me to do…they just didn't seem right, is all."

"Like what?"

Jeremiah shifted uneasily under the weight of Kid Curry's ice cold stare. "Uh, if it's all the same to you, sir, I'd rather not say."

"Things that are against the law?" Kid pressed.

"I'd rather not say, sir."

Catherine interrupted before her father could continue his questioning. "Pa! Please, can we talk about this later? We brought Jeremiah over to see you because I knew you needed help and he needs a job. It's perfect!"

Kid looked at his daughter; the young woman who he didn't even know existed for much of her life. But now that she was in his life and here, he felt a huge responsibility to protect her. And right now, he couldn't think of any bigger threat to her safety and purity than Jeremiah Wilde. But her eyes beseeched him, her words begged him, and he found his resolve weakening. He was on the verge of agreeing to take Jeremiah on when a small measure of common sense returned. But he couldn't find the words to refuse her outright; he decided to let Heyes do that. "I'm sorry Catherine. Before I agree to hire someone, I'll need to run it past Heyes first."

"Oh, I'm sure it'll be fine with him," she said excitedly.

"Maybe. Don't get your hopes up too high. Heyes can be hard to live with sometimes." Kid scowled darkly, barely keeping the growl out of his voice when he said to Jeremiah, "Be at the ranch tomorrow morning at 8 o'clock. You can talk to Heyes then."

Jeremiah's smile broadened into a grin. He shook Kid's hand vigorously. "Thank you, sir. You won't regret it."

Catherine hugged her father happily, "Thank you, pa." Then, she and Jeremiah turned away, heading back to the dance floor.

Kid called after them, his voice lost beneath the strains of another lively polka, "I said, don't get your hopes up." He sighed unhappily and sank heavily back into his chair, leaning his forehead on the crown of his cane, and muttered, "Can this evening get any worse?"


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The next morning, Kid woke late. His sleep had been littered with the debris of dreams vaguely remembered; bits and pieces, images that could not be strung together once his eyes were forced open by insistent light from the guest room window. Stretching languidly, he tossed his covers off and brought his feet to the cool floor. As he had every morning of his recuperation, he took a moment to assess the condition of his injured leg. This morning, he was mildly pleased. His leg felt less stiff, the pain less pervasive than it had been a week, days, ago. Kid smiled, wondering if this improvement signaled a beginning of a real recovery from the gunshot wound that had changed his life so suddenly. 'Maybe this is gonna be a good day,' he thought, letting that idea cheer him. He stood, testing his leg as he did every morning by gradually putting weight on it.

Taking his cane, he walked down the hallway leading to the kitchen. He'd moved downstairs into the spare room last year after being shot, leaving his own comfortable second-floor bedroom vacant. At the time, he hadn't been able to manage the stairs at all and Heyes had helped him move his things into the smaller room at the rear of the main floor. Recently, he'd regained enough strength in his leg that he could have moved back upstairs. The flight of stairs might still be difficult to manage, but he was again strong enough and mobile enough; he could have climbed them, but so far, he just couldn't be bothered to make the effort.

He had heard voices coming from the kitchen when he left his room and as he closer, the voices got louder. He recognized Heyes and Catherine and Clay, but there was one more male voice and it didn't take long for him to figure out who the extra voice belonged to—Jeremiah Wilde.

Kid felt his good mood fade and felt a twinge of pain intensify in his leg. He was suddenly irritated. He knew he'd slept later than normal but calculated that it couldn't be anywhere near eight o'clock just yet. So what was Jeremiah doing here already?

He'd planned to have a talk with Heyes privately before the kid arrived this morning. Last night, he hadn't had the opportunity. Catherine had been with them right up until Heyes wandered off to bed, buoyed along by the memory of his evening with Charlotte, grinning like a schoolboy.

Kid had wanted to warn Heyes off Wilde and ask him to give him some excuse why they couldn't take him on as a hand. Now he just had to hope that Heyes used his usual good sense and intuition to realize Kid's feelings toward the young man.

Just before he reached the threshold of the kitchen door, Kid heard Catherine laugh. It was a happy sound that made Kid's heart sink. Heyes smiled broadly as Kid came into sight. "Sleep well, partner?" he asked.

Kid scowled, nodding an affirmative, before turning his attention on Jeremiah. "A little early, aren't you?" he growled. "I said eight o'clock, as I recall."

"Yes, sir. I—"

"I told Jeremiah he should come out earlier, pa. I knew Uncle Heyes would be up and maybe out of the house before eight. And since you wanted the two of them to talk, well I just thought…"

Kid's expression softened as Catherine's voice rolled over him. He wasn't any less irritated at Jeremiah's unexpected presence, but he couldn't find it in him to be angry at his daughter because of it. And he was sure that Heyes would realize he didn't want the boy working for them. He knew Heyes would come through for him…he always did.

"Kid, it's all settled. Clay here was just about to show Jeremiah the ropes," Heyes said cheerily.

"What?" Kid's eyebrows flew up in shocked surprise. Then his expression settled back into a scowl, blacker than the one before.

"Well, sure…that's what he's here for, isn't it?" Heyes looked questioningly at Kid, confused at his reaction. He mouthed the word 'what?' to his partner.

Kid wanted to explain, to tell Heyes exactly why he didn't want Jeremiah anywhere near Catherine, but it was impossible. Catherine was looking at him with an expectant smile on her face, waiting for him to say something. "Yeah, I guess so. I just thought…well, it doesn't matter what I thought now."

Heyes nodded slowly, still trying to work out what was making Kid so irritable this morning. "Ok then…Clay, why don't you and Jeremiah get to work? Kid and I have some business to discuss." He stood up and held out his hand, "Jeremiah, Clay will see to it that you have everything you need today and I'll check on you later myself."

The two ranch hands ambled out the door, Clay leading the way. Jeremiah stole a glance backwards at Catherine as he passed through the doorway; he favored her with a winning smile. Much to Kid's distress, Catherine blushed and smiled back. Kid groaned silently, knowing that his job of keeping the two young people apart had just gotten ten times more difficult.

"Catherine, I need to speak to your father privately for a while about some ranch business," Heyes said.

"Oh. Ok, sure. I was just on my way out to see Belle anyway," she said. She gave each man a kiss on the cheek, first Heyes and then her father, "I'll see you later, Pa. Thank you." She hugged Kid fiercely.

"For what?"

"For giving Jeremiah a job. It means a lot—to him, I mean."

Kid didn't reply; he just hugged her a little tighter and then let her go, on her way to the stables.

Heyes waited until he heard the screen door slam and heard Catherine's footsteps lead away from the house. Then he waited some more, this time to hear what Kid was going to say. Kid didn't say anything. He just poured himself a cup of coffee from the big enamel pot on the stove and stood sipping it silently, still scowling, lost in his own thoughts. Finally, he noticed Heyes staring at him and growled, his scowl deepening, "What?"

Heyes' eyebrows flew up. So did his hands. "What?" he repeated, throwing Kid's question back at him in a loud, irritated voice. He moved to the range and poured himself a new cup of coffee, having let his old cup get cold again without drinking it. He slammed the pot back down on the iron surface, louder than he planned, and regretted it immediately. He didn't mean to make Kid feel worse than he already did, but he just couldn't understand what was going on with him lately. In his mind, things were going pretty well for the two of them but Kid didn't seem to be adjusting very well to being honest, law-abiding citizens.

But he had to admit, things _were_ going better for him than they were for his partner. He's not the one who had to deal with trying to recover from a gunshot wound, not to mention a grown daughter who had an eye for the young men. And Kid didn't seem to be fitting in with the townspeople as well as he was either, spending most of his time in town with saloon girls and barflies. And it was his job to help Kid through his problems right now, whatever they might be. His voice smooth and even, he said, "Something bothering you, Kid?"

"Alright! You want to know what's bothering me, Heyes? I'll tell ya. The last thing I wanted to see this morning was you and that kid shaking hands like best friends! I don't want him anywhere near Catherine. There's something about that boy…"

"What! Well, why didn't you tell me that before, Kid? After talking to Catherine this morning, I thought sure you were in favor of hiring him. Why didn't you just tell him yourself, last night when the two of them brought it up?"

Kid looked miserable. "I couldn't. I couldn't say no to Catherine. She was all excited and happy…"

"So you were going to let me disappoint her then? Was that your plan?"

"I guess so…" he answered sheepishly, rushing to add, "But I didn't think of it that way. I just figured it would be easier for you."

"Easier how?"

"Well, you ain't her pa; I am. And I just thought you wouldn't mind…"

Heyes looked disappointed. "Kid, I'm surprised at you. I might not be her pa, but Catherine is very special to me. We're family, after all. You figured it would be ok for her to be mad at me? Better me than you, is that it?"

"Course not, Heyes. I didn't mean that. I just wasn't thinking. I didn't mean for—" Kid's misery intensified.

"Course you didn't, Kid. I know." He closed his fingers over Kid's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Ok then…what next? I could go out there right now and fire Jeremiah, if you want me to. In fact, it might be a good idea. I don't really trust the boy either. There's something about him that just don't sit right with me. I can have it done in five minutes and we can just forget the whole thing." Heyes grabbed his black hat from its spot in the middle of the kitchen table and set it firmly on his head, pushing it back away from his forehead. "You stay here, Kid. I'll be right back—"

Kid grabbed Heyes' arm, keeping him from walking away. "No."

"No? But I thought—"

"Yeah, I do want him gone, but if you go out now and fire him…well, Catherine is going to know it's because of me."

"Kid, I'll make up some kind of story. She won't suspect—"

"No, Heyes. It won't work that way. She'll know. She already knows I don't like him much and she probably figures it's just because he's sniffing around my little girl…in a manner of speaking."

"Well, then what do you want me to do, Kid?"

Kid sighed unhappily. "I don't know, Heyes. I just don't. I feel so tired. I think I'm gonna just sit here for a while, before going out to work this morning." He sat down heavily. The pain in his leg was back with a vengeance.

"Ok, Kid, you do that. I'll be back in to see you after I feed Prometheus."

"Ok, Heyes. Heyes, one thing before you goes?"

"What's that, Kid?"

"I want you to stop calling me Kid. It just doesn't feel right anymore. I'm too old for that now and besides, that's a name for an outlaw. I'm not an outlaw anymore and I just want to forget I ever was. Just call me by my Christian name from now on, ok?"

Heyes looked at his life-long friend, trying to see what was going on inside his head. Finally, unable to read Kid—Jed—he nodded and walked out without another word.

"So, Clay, you been here long?" Jeremiah asked, after the two had been finished feeding and watering the horses in the barn.

"Been working here two years now."

"What's it like working for Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry?" The younger man grinned with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"They're both fair and decent men, and they pay an honest wage for an honest day's work."

"Honest huh? How'd they pay for this place anyway, with loot from one of their big train robberies?" he smirked.

"No, actually they got most of the money to buy this place from gambling. Mr. Heyes is about the best poker player I've ever seen. But they started small, just a few horses, did most of the work themselves. This looks like the first year that the place will really turn a profit, be a real working ranch.

"They only hired you because Mr. Curry got his leg hurt so bad," he added slowly, giving the younger man an appraising look.

"Hey, I didn't mean any disrespect or anything. I just grew up with the stories…you know…the most successful outlaws in the west. I just don't understand why they'd give all that up to raise a few horses."

"I don't about all that. I just know that these days they're decent men trying to earn an honest living."

"Yeah, I guess. Not nearly as dangerous as being a gunfighter, right? Say, how many notches you figure Curry has on that gun of his?"

"I don't think he has any notches," the other man said indignantly, starting to take a healthy dislike to Jeremiah.

"Oh come on, you know what I mean. How many men has he killed?"

"I know what you meant, and I wouldn't know. You'd have to take that up with Mr. Curry," Clay said curtly, turning to walk away.

"Well, he don't seem so dangerous now," Wilde said dismissively.

"Young fella, when you get a little older you'll realize that things aren't always what they seem. I wouldn't cross him if I were you. Other outlaws and gunslingers were afraid of him. Mind you be as well," Clay said sharply, turning back and giving the younger man a warning look.

"That was when he was in his prime…before he was a cripple."

"Mr. Wilde," Clay said abruptly, "you were hired to work the horses, not talk about the boss. Now get to work or I'm going to have a word with Mr. Curry and you may just find out whether or not he's still dangerous."

Hey, I didn't mean no disrespect. Wilde gave the other man an innocent smile. '_I'm not worried. He's not going to do anything to me. Not with that pretty little girl watching.'_ Wilde sauntered off toward the corral, smiling benignly. '_Couple of losers…they'd have never quit robbing trains and banks if they were any good at it. I bet Curry was never even a fast draw.'_

"Well, I think I'm going to enjoy working here this summer." he added politely, catching a glimpse of Catherine standing by the corral watching them. "Yep, I'm gonna have a _real_ good time."

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted. He turned to see Kid Curry looking at him. It was his hard voice calling his name that had broken into his daydreams about Catherine. Kid gestured for him to come over, in the opposite direct from the corral and the girl. _'Dammit. Where the hell did he come from?'_ he thought from behind his smiling façade.

Kid didn't waste words with small talk. "Let's get one thing straight, Wilde. You've been hired to help out with the chores and work with the horses—not spend time with my daughter. Is that clear?" Curry gave the younger man a hard glare that usually made men see his side of a matter.

Wilde simply smiled politely. "You have nothing to worry about Mr. Curry. I'm a hard worker and my intentions are strictly honorable. Now if you don't mind, I got work to do."

Kid frowned and nodded brusquely, dismissing Jeremiah. Kid watched him walk away, unsure of why this boy gave him an uneasy feeling. Maybe he was jealous of Wilde's youth; maybe it was the confidence the boy seemed to exude, which bordered on arrogance; maybe it was just the idea of any young man taking an interest in his daughter.

Heyes was working with Prometheus, pleased with the progress the two of them had been making together. He felt that the mighty stallion was nearly ready to ride, nearly but not quite. He'd stopped what he'd been doing when he saw Kid—Jed—come out of the house, walking slowly and leaning on his cane. He heard Kid yell for Jeremiah and watched the boy swagger over to where his partner waited. He couldn't hear what the two men were talking about but he could see Jed's face, and he was saddened to see how tired and worn-out his friend looked. He wondered when things had gone so wrong for Kid…and why he hadn't noticed it until now.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Heyes didn't move until Kid turned to walk back into the ranch house, taking a quick glance over his shoulder in Heyes' direction. The ex-leader of outlaws was ashamed to be caught spying on his best friend. Even from where he stood, he imagined he could see the reproach in Kid's eyes, the anger in the set of his jaw. He wondered how much of that anger was directed at him.

Heyes sighed heavily at the sound of the screen door slamming shut after Kid. Prometheus seemed to read the change in his master's mood, and responded by nudging his shoulder with his large, velvety muzzle. When Heyes didn't respond, the big beast nudged him again, harder. Heyes stumbled forward from the force of the horse's push. Satisfied that he had the man's attention, Prometheus blew a wet, noisy blast of air out his nostrils. "Sorry, fella," Heyes said, smiling. "Didn't mean to ignore you. But I've just got a few things to work out, you know?" Heyes looked back at the ranch house, staring into the doorway where his life-long friend and partner had disappeared. He rubbed Prometheus' long neck absently. "I gotta figure out how to fix this." He stared into the horses eyes. "Got any suggestions?"

Prometheus shook his massive head vigorously, chuffing at the air, as if in answer to Heyes' question. Heyes laughed. "Well, if you think of something, would you let me know? I think I might need your wisdom on this one."

The sound of carriage wheels churning over the dusty road into their yard made Heyes turn away from the horse. The sight of Charlotte in that carriage made Heyes forget about Kid, at least for a while. The smile on his face let her know without a doubt that he was happy, thrilled even, to see her. Tying Prometheus' lead rope to the fence post, he walked towards her, pushing his hat up off his forehead so he could see her more clearly. His smile broadened at the sight of her, fresh and pretty on the carriage bench, unaffected by the dust and the heat.

But then his smile faded. He realized that she was not smiling at all; was looking rather somber and serious in fact. His dark eyes clouded over and his smile disappeared entirely, overshadowed by a worried frown.

"Hello, Charlotte," he said, his worry evident in his cautious voice.

"Heyes," she replied, somewhat nervously.

"I didn't expect you," he continued, trying to read her mood.

"I wasn't planning on coming," she countered.

"Oh." He paused thoughtfully, and said, "So…"

"Would you help me down, please?" she said, looping the reins around the carriage brake.

"Oh—sure, of course. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." He reached up as she turned toward him in her seat. She reached down, placing her hands on his strong, muscular shoulders as his fingers wrapped around her waist. Trusting him to support her, she slid off the seat, letting her feet dangle in mid-air as he lowered her carefully to the ground. Her body brushed against his and his mind flashed back to the night just past, remembering how good it felt to hold her close on the dance floor. Finally, he took his hands away from her waist and stepped back, watching her adjust her skirts around her.

She avoided looking at him, preferring instead to fuss with her dress a little longer, then reaching up to make sure her hair was arranged just so beneath her straw bonnet. He grew increasingly uncomfortable, wondering what had brought her to the ranch; but he waited for her to speak first. Finally, he cleared his throat noisily, drawing her attention.

"How are you, Heyes?" she asked.

"Fine, Charlotte. You?"

"Oh, I'm fine, thank you."

The conversation stalled. He waited, expectantly. She didn't seem to notice. His eyebrows rose in an unasked question. She ignored it.

"You are the most confounding woman sometimes, have I ever mentioned that?" he finally blurted.

She looked surprised. Then she laughed out loud; his outburst had startled her but she didn't blame him for it. Taking his hand in hers, she said, "I'm sorry, Heyes. I don't mean to be difficult. I'm just not used to this."

"Used to _what?_" he tried again. "Why are you here? What do you want? Not that I'm not pleased that you're here, because I am, I truly am; but it would be so much easier if I just knew what you wanted."

"I want you, Heyes. Don't you know that by now?"

He fell silent, his mouth closing and then dropping open, and then closing again. Hannibal Heyes, the man with the silver tongue, was suddenly struck dumb. Tentatively, Charlotte smiled. "Is that alright, Hannibal? I mean, I thought it's what you wanted too; otherwise, I would never have come out here."

Heyes hadn't found his voice yet. He pulled his hat off his head and ran his fingers through his long brown hair. Then he put his hat back on his head, pulling it firmly down over his forehead and then pushing it back, far back on his head.

"Hannibal?"

"Uh, Charlotte…I'm sorry, I didn't expect this at all. I thought you said you didn't want a husband. You said—"

"I remember what I said. And I meant it…when I said it. I've meant it all my life. I meant it when I went home last night. But no matter how much I meant it, somehow, I don't _feel _it anymore."

"I don't understand."

"After you took me home last night, I couldn't sleep. I kept going back to what you said, what I said, how you looked at me, how I felt. And I realized one thing. I realized that for the first time in my life, I don't have everything I want."

"You want to get married?" Nervousness and some panic caused his voice to go up half an octave making her laugh again.

"Maybe someday, but that's not what I meant. I just want to spend some time getting to know each other better—for now."

Heyes laughed happily and grabbed Charlotte around her waist, lifting her into the air, spinning her around in a dizzying circle. Setting her down again, he kissed her, grinding his lips into hers. When he let her up for air, she pushed her hands against his chest so she could look up into his eyes. "There's only one thing, Hannibal."

"Anything."

"I haven't changed my mind about being a teacher. I won't give that up. Not for anything, not ever."

"That's all right, Charlotte. Don't you know that? I don't want to change you. I love you just the way you are."

He kissed her again, setting her mind spinning. But she wasn't sure if her head was spinning from the kiss or because he'd just told her he loved her.

"Ok, so what do we do now? Do you have to go back to town? No. We have to celebrate. Can you stay? You have to stay, alright?" Charlotte opened her mouth to speak, but he kept on talking, "I know, we can go for a ride; maybe a picnic in the meadow. I think we have some leftover chicken from last night's supper." He started walking toward the house, grabbing her hand and pulling her along behind. "And some wine. We'll need wine. I wish we had champagne but we don't keep that on—"

"Heyes?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you do something for me?"

"Anything, darling. Whatever you ask."

"Will you shut up?" She pulled on his arm, dragging him in close to her. Putting her hands on each side of his face, she placed her fingers over his lips, silencing him with the gesture. Then, sliding her fingers out of the way, she kissed him.

Parting, he repeated throatily, "Whatever you ask." They continued in silence into the house, walking hand in hand, pausing a time or two to kiss playfully. Suddenly, he stopped. "Oh wait. I almost forgot about Prometheus. I need to put him in his stall."

"Well, how would it be if I went inside and saw what I could scrounge up to put in a picnic basket while you do that? Do you think that would be all right?"

"Wonderful. I'll join you as soon as I can."

Reluctantly, Heyes released his grip on her hand, letting it slide away from his touch. Then he returned to where he had left Prometheus tied to the fence while she walked the rest of the distance to the house alone.

00000

Charlotte stood in the big kitchen, looking it over, trying to visualize where the two bachelors living there would things stored. She found the picnic basket just where she would have expected; on a shelf high up inside the walk-in pantry. Smiling with satisfaction, she took it down. Setting it on the counter top, she pulled open the door of the icebox, leaning inside to survey its contents. Spotting the leftover chicken Heyes promised would be there, she had it, along with two apples she'd also noticed, in her hands when she backed out of the icebox and bumped into Kid Curry who was standing in the middle of the kitchen watching her.

She jumped, "Oh, Mr. Curry. I didn't hear you come in."

"No, ma'am. I guess you didn't. I'm pretty quiet most times, I reckon. Comes from years of running and hiding from the law."

"Oh. Yes, I suppose that would make one a bit more cautious than most folks."

"Yes, ma'am. It does." He looked at the food she was holding as if he were noticing it for the first time. "You mind me asking you what you're doing, ma'am?"

"Please, call me Charlotte. We're probably going to be seeing a lot more of each other now."

"We are, ma'am? Uh, I mean Charlotte?"

"Well, I mean…" Not really sure what to say, Charlotte decided to answer his original question instead. "We're going on a picnic."

Kid looked bewildered. "We are?"

Charlotte laughed. "No, not _we. _I'm sorry. I wasn't very clear, was I? _Heyes_ and I are going on a picnic."

Relieved, Kid sighed, "Oh. That's nice." Looking around, he asked, "Where is Heyes?"

"He's out putting Prometheus back in his stall, I think. Do you know where the wine is?"

"Wine, ma'am?"

"Charlotte. Yes, for our picnic. Heyes said he thought you had some wine?"

"Oh. Oh, sure. Let me get that for you. There're some glasses up there in that cupboard, if you want to reach them." He reached up into a different cabinet and selected a bottle of wine. Wondering just how serious Heyes was about this woman, he finally settled on a mid-range bottle, not too expensive but as he recalled, quite tasty.

He handed it to her and she placed it in the basket along with the chicken and fruit and assorted picnic ware.

00000

Prometheus gazed at Heyes, disapprovingly. "I know. We haven't finished working yet." He untied the lead rope from the fence post. "But this is a one-time deal, ok? It won't happen again, I promise." The horse stomped his foreleg across the hard ground, stirring up the dust around his hoof. "Look, tomorrow we'll work twice as long. You have my word. How's that?"

The big animal shook his head vigorously, unconvinced. "Ok, well how about this?" Heyes reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two cubes of white sugar. "Does this help?" he said, offering them to the horse. Prometheus ignored them, letting his master stew for a few seconds, but finally lowered his velvety muzzle into Heyes' palm, accepting the sweet treat. "Good boy," Heyes cooed, rubbing the horse's head between his large wide-set eyes, before leading him into the barn.

Jeremiah was just coming in through the opposite door at the back of the barn when Heyes entered through the front door. "Jeremiah," he said in greeting. "How's the first day going? You finding everything all right?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Heyes. Everything is going just the way I thought it would. That Clay, he's a good guy."

"Yes, he is. Well, good. I'm glad things are going all right. You just let Clay or one of us know if you have any questions."

"Yes, sir, I will. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Well, if you'd excuse me, I was just going to get Prometheus back into the corral. I'll be taking the rest of the afternoon off. I'm taking Miss Charlotte on a picnic."

"Prometheus? Huh, that's some name; a bit of a mouthful though," Jeremiah said. "Would you like me to take care of him for you, sir? So you don't keep your lady friend waiting, I mean."

Heyes grinned, "Thanks, Wilde. I'd appreciate it." He handed the lead rope to the younger man but as he did, he felt a twinge of apprehension flutter through his belly and he almost pulled the rope back out of Jeremiah's hand, intending to tell him that he'd rather tend to his own horse. Instead, he smiled coolly, his eyes never wavering from Jeremiah's face.

"Take good care of him now, you hear?" he heard himself say.

"Don't you worry none, Mr. Heyes. I surely will."

Wilde led Prometheus through the barn while Heyes watched. "You'd better," he muttered. He felt uncomfortable around the man, that was sure; but he didn't know exactly why. So far, Jeremiah hadn't done anything to make him suspicious but for some reason, he still was. Maybe it was because he knew now that Kid didn't like the boy and didn't trust him. But Heyes thought there might be more to it than that. There was something about the young man that worried him; that set his outlaw intuition tingling. He wanted to talk to Kid about it, but he wasn't sure that Kid had the power to be impartial about the boy. He decided that he'd just keep his concerns to himself for a while; and at the same time, watch Wilde like a hawk.

Jeremiah led Prometheus back to the corral. Catherine had disappeared from her perch on the wooden fence, but he knew she probably hadn't gone too far.

After he removed the lead rope, he swung the gate closed behind the horse and stood leaning against the fence for a while, admiring the massive beast. He knew horses. In his line of work he had to, and he knew that this was a valuable horse; a little unpredictable but valuable nonetheless. He'd looked over the whole stable of horses on the ranch and he'd come to the conclusion that this horse was the cream of the crop, sure to fetch a healthy price. All he needed was a little more breaking, he figured, and he'd be ready.

The clippity-clop of hooves drew his attention away from Prometheus. Looking down the road, he watched as Catherine cantered into the yard astride Belle. Her face was flushed, her hair a little wind-blown by her ride. He watched as she threw her leg over the horse's flank and slid down to the ground. He knew that she knew that he was watching her. Taking the reins, she walked Belle into the barn, presumably to take off her saddle and give her a good brushing before putting her back into her stall.

After waiting a few minutes, Jeremiah entered the barn from the corral. He spotted Catherine inside Belle's stall using the big curry brush on the horse's coat. She glanced up as he came closer. Jeremiah could tell that she'd been hoping he'd come seeking her out by the nervous little smile that played across her lips at the sight of him. He smiled; a slow smile, full of hidden meaning; one he'd used countless times before on women; women both younger and older than Catherine; a smile that never failed to produce the desired result.

"Catherine," he said, his voice low and personal. "I was hoping I'd run into you this morning."

She laughed, trying to quell her nervousness. "Oh? Well, I was out riding. I just got back." 'I just got back?' she screamed at herself. 'Of course, I just got back. He already knew that. He watched me ride in.'

"Right. Well, I'm glad you're back. I have a little free time right now and I was thinking we could talk a bit."

"What about?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just talk. I'd like to get to know you a little better; especially now that I'm working out here and we'll have lots of chances to see each other more." His eyes never left her. He could detect a slight tremor in her hands as she continued to brush Belle. He knew he was the cause of her trembling.

"I'd like that, I suppose," she said, while inwardly she was scolding herself for feeling so nervous. When he reached out and took the brush from her hands, the touch of his fingers on hers burned like fire. She almost gasped out loud at this simple contact.

"Come with me," he said, whispering even though they were alone. "Let's find someplace more private to talk." Before she had the chance to object, he'd taken her by the hand and began pulling her out of Belle's stall, closing the gate firmly behind her. He pulled her into the far corner of the barn, into the cool shadows and the smell of freshly laid straw and horses. She was scared and excited to be alone with him; more excited than scared.

"Umm, how is everything going? Are you learning your way around the ranch?" she asked when he didn't say anything else, choosing instead to just look at her.

"Sure. No problem. I've worked on plenty of ranches before. This one is just about the same as all the rest."

"Well, that's good…" After another empty pause, she said, "Clay is really nice, isn't he?"

"He's ok."

She fidgeted nervously under his intense gaze, aware in her discomfort that he was amused by her unease. Drawing a deep breath, she continued, forcing her emotions under control, "Jeremiah, you dragged me back here because you wanted to talk, you said. Now it seems like I'm the one doing all the talking. What did you want?"

"I'm sorry, Catherine. It's just that you make me so nervous; I forget what I want to say."

She laughed, not believing him but still amused. "You, nervous? I doubt much makes you nervous, Mr. Wilde."

"True," he said, looking away shyly. "Not much makes me nervous…but you do, Miss Curry."

She felt her heart jump within her chest and knew her face was reddening embarrassingly.

He faced her squarely, a slow smile spreading across his handsome face, and stared directly into her eyes. Her heart started pounding violently. He gripped her shoulders and stepped closer, so that there were only a few inches of empty space between their bodies. She thought she might faint as the thought that he was going to kiss her entered her mind.

But he didn't kiss her. Instead, he spoke. "Catherine. I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am to you for helping me get this job. It means a lot to me."

Stunned, all she could say was, "oh."

Patting her shoulders in a friendly manner, he kissed her cheek. "Anyway, I gotta get back to work. Your dad will be after me if I don't pull my weight around here. See ya."

And then he was gone, leaving her standing, frozen in place, wondering what had happened.

00000

Heyes found Kid in the closet. He was rummaging around among the linens looking for something. "Hey, K—Jed. Whatcha lookin' for?" he asked.

Kid poked his head out, favoring Heyes with a look that was less than cheerful. "Blanket."

"Blanket? You cold, Jed?"

"No, I'm not cold, you idiot. I'm trying to find that old cotton blanket for you and Charlotte to take on your picnic."

Heyes looked hurt. "Oh. Thanks. But there's no need to get proddy about it."

"Ah, here it is." Jed pulled out the blanket and handed it to Heyes. "I'm sorry, Heyes. You're right. I've been a mean son-of-a-gun lately and I apologize for that. I've just been under a lot of stress lately, you know?"

"Come on, Jed. It's ok. Don't worry about it."

"I'm not so sure, Heyes. About it being ok, I mean. I—Well, never mind. You have a beautiful lady waiting for you in the kitchen. So take that blanket and get out of here. We can talk about this later, ok?"

"Sure thing, Jed. Tonight. We'll talk tonight. And don't you worry none. Everything is going to be fine…just fine."

"Right," he said, forcing a smile, one that almost, but not quite, made it to his eyes. "Now go, would ya?"

Heyes grinned and left. Kid stayed out of the way until he heard the front door slam shut and heard Heyes and Charlotte outside, laughing and talking happily as they climbed into her buggy and rode off. Then he wandered through the house for a few minutes longer, feeling restless but not really knowing what to do with himself. A lot of the chores he was accustomed to handling on the ranch were still out of his capabilities so he had resigned himself months ago to letting other men do his work while he only watched.

Finally, unable to stand the confinement of the big ranch house any longer, he decided to go find Clay and see what he thought of their new employee. He had no sooner stepped outside when three riders came ambling up their drive.

His blood ran cold and then hot to see that the lead rider was none other than Theodore Denton, their neighbor; the same neighbor who had tried to buy their land and then implied that he and Heyes might be stealing his horses.

His eyes turned glassy cold watching them ride in. No matter what Heyes said, he didn't like Denton and he didn't trust him; but worse than that, he felt in his gut that Denton felt the same way about him.

Kid waited for the three riders to pull up, right in front of where he was standing before greeting his neighbor. "Denton," he said, hi voice cautious and cool.

"Curry," the other man answered, just as cautiously and coolly. Neither man smiled. The two men behind Denton smirked at one another behind their employer's back.

"Something I can do for you?" Kid asked, not so much a question as a warning.

"I think maybe you can. As I'm sure you are aware, I've had a couple of horses come up missing."

"I heard."

Denton's eyes wandered away from Curry. Kid realized his gaze was now turned toward the corral where his and Heyes' herd were held. Denton looked as though he were looking for something.

"What's that got to do with us?"

Denton stared down at Kid, his gaze hard and his jaw set, iron-like. "Why don't you tell me?"

Kid bristled under the man's scrutiny. "I don't think so. If you have something to say, you better just come out with it or be on your way."

"Oh, I'll be on my way alright. But you hear this—I won't just let this lie. I plan on making sure that whoever's been stealing my horses and causing trouble on my ranch is brought to justice." Denton's words held a poorly veiled threat, one that wasn't missed by Kid Curry.

"I think it's time you left now, Denton."

Denton smiled coldly, sarcastically tipping his hat to Kid. "Be seeing you, Curry." He pulled his horse around and rode off slowly, followed by his men. "Yep, I'll be seeing you real soon."

Kid watched the men ride off. They were several yards down the road before he took a breath. "Dammit! Could things get any worse?"

Inside the barn, hidden in the cobwebby shadows, Jeremiah Wilde smiled wickedly.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"What are you thinking about Jed?" Heyes asked quietly, joining his long time friend on the porch. The dinner dishes had been washed and dried and Curry sat on the porch with a cigar, although he seemed to be absently chewing on it more than smoking or enjoying it.

"Just this place," Curry replied somewhat vaguely.

Heyes didn't push for more. He just stood beside his friend and took out his own cigar, lighting it carefully and leaning against the rail. Drawing the fragrant smoke into his mouth, he followed Curry's gaze across the pasture and toward the mountains, waiting for the other man to continue.

"I mean for the first time it really looked like this place was going to turn a profit, and now—this trouble starts; the fences and the veiled accusations. I wanted things to be settled, for this place to be running smoothly when I told Catherine about my—about our decision."

Heyes smiled but continued to look toward the mountains. "Things aren't as bad as they seem, Ki—Jed," he replied, almost slipping again into the familiar term he'd addressed the other man by for so many years. "We'll get this thing figured out, and Catherine will be real pleased when you tell her the news."

Kid looked up into Heyes' face, looking for the reassurance he needed. Hopefully, he asked, "You think so? You really think she'll want a piece of this place?"

"I know so. I can tell by the way she looks at the horses and the land. She loves it out here. She's even said so."

Kid wanted to believe Heyes, to trust his instincts, but he felt doubt push its insistent way back into his gut. "Yeah, but telling her I'm leaving her my share of the ranch, that's a big step. I want to make sure the time's right. I'm not even sure she likes me right now," he muttered sadly.

"Come on Jed. She's just a kid, and she's still getting to know you. She'll come around. I'm sure of it, even if you aren't."

"Not as much of a kid as I thought. More like a 'woman' the way she acts around that boy."

"Aw Jed, she's just trying to feel grown up. You remember how it was for us at that age? Part boy and part man and trying to figure it all out?"

"Yeah; but Heyes, we were alone. We had to grow up. She's got a family. She's got her mother and Joseph and…us."

Heyes smiled at the inclusion. "She's gonna be fine," he said with a smile that he let rest on his face for a while before his brow furrowed into a more serious expression.

"Jed, there's something else I've been meaning to talk to you about."

"What," Curry turned and gave Heyes his full attention finally.

Heyes felt a fluttering of butterfly wings in his stomach, nervous and a little awkward bringing up the subject. "Well…it's Charlotte," Heyes said tentatively.

Kid let out a relieved laugh. "Hey, it's fine with me if you want to see her. I mean you never tell me what women I can and can't see." His thoughts drifted briefly to Genevieve—he knew Heyes had opinions about her that he kept to himself.

"Well Jed, see, the thing is I might want to do more than just _see_ her," Heyes said, still choosing his words carefully.

Curry's face broke into a mischievous grin. "Well now Heyes, you certainly don't need my permission for _that_," he chuckled softly.

"No Jed," Heyes was feeling slightly flushed. He wasn't sure why he was having such a difficult time discussing this but he sure knew that Kid wasn't making it any easier on him. He took a deep breath and took the plunge. "I mean I might want to—marry her, maybe. Someday."

Curry's expression froze and he stared hard at his partner. "Oh," he said simply and turned back toward the mountains. "I didn't think she wanted to live on a ranch," he added finally.

"Well, she doesn't, I was thinking maybe I'd move into town—if we did get married I mean."

Curry didn't respond; he just nodded vaguely, staring out toward the mountains.

"Well, it's just an idea anyway." Heyes said, telling a little white lie to soften the affect his words had on his friend; and then changing the subject to a less pleasant one. "So, what did Denton want today?" The two hadn't had a chance to discuss the encounter before now because of Catherine's presence and they hadn't wanted to worry her.

Curry threw him an accusing look. "Just what I said would happen," he growled. "Denton figures we're stealing his horses."

"Come on Jed, he's a fair man. He can't possibly think—"

"No?" Curry interrupted angrily. "Well, he sure as hell can, and he does. He said he 'knows' what we're doing and he's gonna prove it. Gonna bring the guilty parties to justice, he said, staring at me like I was something disgusting he'd just stepped in."

Heyes frowned, stubbing his cigar out on the porch railing. "I'd guess I'd better go have a talk with him tomorrow."

Kid laughed harshly, causing Heyes to glance over at him abruptly, surprise widening his dark eyes. "Oh that's rich! You can fix it, is that it? He won't believe me, the vicious gunfighter; but you can convince him because you're the great silver-tongued Hannibal Heyes?" Kid dropped his own cigar to the ground, grinding it out with the heel of his boot angrily.

"That's not what I meant, Kid, and you know it. What the hell's got into you lately?" Heyes demanded, dispensing with 'Jed' and not sure whether to be hurt or angry.

"Nothing, Heyes, just nothing." Pushing himself clumsily out of his chair, Curry stormed into the house, letting the screen door bang resoundingly behind him.

Alone on the porch, Heyes sighed and looked up at the stars. _'You'd better snap out of this Kid, I'm not sure how much longer I can put up with you.'_

00000

A good night's sleep had done little to repair the two men's rapport when they met at the breakfast table the following morning. There was little conversation to go along with the fried eggs and bacon; just the clatter of two men working together but not in harmony in the kitchen, each knowing what their respective morning duties were and doing them without speaking.

When the plates were finally empty of food and the cups were drained, Heyes pushed back from the table, ready to offer his friend an olive branch. "I think I'm going to lead Prometheus out into the north pasture a ways. Let him run a little, see how he responds." Heyes glanced at his partner across the table. "Do you want to come along?"

"No," Curry replied after a few moments' thought. "I've got too much to do here. You go if you want to though."

"Okay, I will. I'll see you in a couple of hours." Heyes picked up his plate and headed for the kitchen, nearly bumping into Catherine on her way in.

"Good morning, Uncle Heyes," the girl said, somewhat startled by his unusually distracted demeanor.

"Sorry, honey, I didn't see you there."

"What were you thinking about? You looked miles away," she asked, her voice bright with the youthful excitement she had been showing ever since Wilde's arrival.

"Oh, nothing really," he said lightly. "What do you have planned for the day?"

"Well, I thought I'd take Belle out for a ride. Can you come with me? Pa doesn't want me to ride alone and it sounds like he's too busy to take me," she added with a small pout.

"Sorry, honey. I can't this morning."

"Oh, well, then maybe I can go with Jeremiah?" She gave her father a hopeful glance.

"No," Kid said, more harshly than the question seemed to warrant. "He has a job to do here. That's what you wanted, isn't it? For me to give him a job?"

"Kid…" Heyes began, surprised by his partner's tone.

"Don't—" he flashed a warning look in the other man's direction. Heyes raised his hands, palms forward in acquiescence, looking vaguely irritated at being silenced so abruptly.

"Look, Catherine," Curry continued more gently, ignoring his partner. "We just have a lot of work to get done this morning. We still have all the two year olds to saddle break and train if they're going to be ready to put up for sale next month." He sighed, already regretting his outburst. Wanting to make amends, he said, "Look, maybe later, after lunch, we can take a ride into town. See if any of those things you ordered have come in yet?"

"Pa, Emma said it would be two weeks." She gave her father a withering look, unwilling or unable to accept his attempt at reconciliation. "It's okay. I'll just take a walk then. Maybe we can go for a ride later instead?"

"Sure, that would be fine." He tried to smile but the effort fell a little flat. "But don't walk too far. Stay on the property," he called after his daughter as she left the room. He stood and watched the place where she had been for another few seconds, waiting for the sound of the front door opening and closing after her.

"What?" Curry demanded. He gave Heyes a hard look after the girl had gone outside, challenging him to say anything.

Heyes didn't take the challenge. Instead, he just shook his head in annoyance and followed the same path Catherine had just taken, out of the house. He hated to admit it, but he was anxious to leave. He was almost feeling guilty for being happy. He couldn't seem to keep Charlotte out of his thoughts, and he smiled every time she came to his mind. He was also looking forward to getting spending some time alone with Prometheus. He had been noticing some definite signs of improvement in the animal over the last few days, and although he knew it would still be a while before he rode him, the outcome was looking more and more encouraging. He felt like things were really going well in his life right now and he wished his partner could just be happy for him instead of wallowing in his own problems for a change.

"Good morning, Mr. Heyes," a voice called.

Heyes looked over to see their new hand leading one of the horses across the yard. "Morning, Wilde. How's everything going?"

"Real fine, Sir. I'm just getting an early start taking these horses over to the training corral."

Heyes nodded, looking around at the other animals. They all seemed to be content enough. _'He seems to be working out okay,' _he thought as he continued on toward the barn.

Prometheus seemed eager to get going this morning and Heyes was glad that he'd planned to take the animal out to the more open area where he could run a little. He knew he was going to have to begin to show the animal a little more freedom if he was going to gain his trust.

Astride his young mare, and leading the stallion, Heyes rode out of the barn toward the main corral.

He noticed Catherine standing by the fence and followed her gaze toward the young man working with the horses. His eyes narrowed as he again considered the dark haired hired hand. The boy certainly seemed to have made a big impression on Catherine.

"See that you do a good job with them," Heyes called to him.

"I've got it all under control, Mr. Heyes," the young man replied cheerfully. .

Heyes nodded as he continued past the corral. Catherine was leaning against the fencepost, her attention focused on Jeremiah.

'_She's a smart girl; she'll be fine,'_ he assured himself, trying to push away the uneasy feeling that he was starting to have about Jeremiah. He let his horse take a few more strides down the road before signaling the animal to stop. Turning in the saddle to look over his shoulder, Heyes watched the two young people for a moment before calling to Catherine. "Hey, if you still want to take Belle out, why don't you come with me? You can help me with Prometheus today."

Catherine considered the offer, glancing at Jeremiah. Heyes could tell that she was torn between staying on the ranch to be closer to the boy and having the opportunity to saddle up her horse and go for a ride. He had nearly given up hope that she would choose to accompany him when she suddenly called for him to wait. Then she ran into the house to tell her pa her new plans.

Heyes thought he caught a look of annoyance, almost anger on Jeremiah's face.

00000

Later that day, after their work with Prometheus was over, Heyes and Catherine returned and set about making supper while Kid watched from a kitchen chair. Catherine was cheerful during the meal and relayed stories of Heyes' progress with the horse to her father, who listened attentively, happy just to have her speak to him. After dinner, she excused herself to sit on the front porch and look at the stars. It was a nice night and the sky was clear.

Heyes decided to let Kid have some time to himself and went to his office to collect the book he'd been reading the night before. Neither man heard the quiet conversation taking place in front of the house.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it?" Catherine was saying as she smiled shyly up at the handsome young man with dark hair and the lightest blue eyes she'd ever seen.

"Yes, beautiful," he said, looking directly into her eyes. His gaze was so intense that she looked away self consciously.

"I really love it out here," she said quietly.

"I've always dreamed of having a ranch like this. One day I will," Jeremiah said with a wistful look toward the mountains.

Catherine felt a tingling sensation at the thought. "It's been my dream for a long time too," she said excitedly. "I want to raise horses and train them—like my pa and Uncle Heyes do. If they'd let me, I'd stay here forever."

He turned his face toward hers and gave her a deep penetrating look. "You know, you're beautiful when you get that look in your eyes."

"What look?" she asked, her heart in her throat, wishing that he wouldn't look at her that way.

"When you talk about your dreams for the future," he said, gently taking placing his hands on her shoulders and turning her toward him, reminding her of how he had held her the day before while they were alone in the barn. His touch sent a pleasant tingle through her shoulder blades.

"You're a beautiful young woman, Catherine. I'd like to kiss you."

Catherine wasn't sure if it was a question, or statement of intent, but she looked up eagerly into his eyes and held her breath. She'd never been called a woman in quite that way before and although it frightened her, it also excited her more than she could have imagined.

Then, to her chagrin, Jeremiah shook his head slightly and took a step back. "No, that was brazen of me, I shouldn't have said that." He looked back at Catherine with soft blue eyes that seemed to peer into her very soul. She felt her heart sink to her stomach. She wasn't sure if she should feel disappointed or relieved.

"Do you mean…you don't want to anymore?" she asked, doubt making her feel uncertain.

"No. I want to more than I've ever wanted anything. It's just…" he turned away.

"Just what?" she reached out almost desperately and grasped his hand in hers.

"It wouldn't be proper, Catherine, I don't think your father would approve." He paused and a clouded look passed over his eyes. "I don't think he likes me very much."

"Well, I like you," she said quickly, gripping his hand tighter within her own, "and I don't care what he thinks." Her eyes flashed defiantly, with teenage bravado.

"Thank you, Catherine. That means a lot to me." He smiled and squeezed her hand before pulling away. "I'd best be getting back to Clay's. I've got chores to start on early in the morning." He leaned over and kissed her gently on the forehead and then turned and walked slowly toward the small cabin that he shared with the other ranch hand.

She wanted to stamp her foot in frustration. "But…I thought…" She stared after him longingly. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Of course," he called over his shoulder, as he continued walking. With his face now turned away from hers and with the two of them separated by distance and the darkness of night, he allowed a self-satisfied smile to spread across his face. _'I'll have her begging by tomorrow,'_ he thought, full of self-satisfaction.

Suddenly left standing alone in front of the house, Catherine turned and slowly stepped up onto the porch. She didn't notice her father, who was standing watching her from just inside the doorway, until she was nearly upon him.

"What was he doing up here this late, Catherine?" he asked, his voice tight with barely concealed accusations.

"We were just talking," she answered defensively. "He thinks you don't like him, you know." It was her turn to sound accusing. "You really should appreciate him more for how hard he works around here. I don't think you are being fair to him." She gave her father an angry look and then brushed past him to go upstairs to her room.

"Catherine," he called after her. "It just isn't proper for a young lady—"

"Pa," she spun around, "he's been a perfect gentleman!" she said almost bitterly, and then, seemingly on the verge of tears, turned and ran upstairs.

Kid fumed and turned back toward the living room, only then realizing that Heyes was sitting in one of the large leather chairs. He had his book facedown in his lap, as though he had placed it there so he could pause to listen to their conversation, and was looking at Kid with a troubled expression on his face.

"What?" Kid demanded gruffly.

"Nothing," Heyes replied with a shrug. "It's just that—well, maybe you should just try another approach," he offered gently.

"Oh, you're the expert on sixteen year old girls now too?" Kid glared at his longtime friend with a look Heyes had rarely seen directed at him.

"No, I'm just saying…" He raised his hands in surrender. "Look, she's your daughter, so…"

"That's right, Heyes, she is. So just stay out of it!" He turned and limped heavily toward his room.

Heyes didn't move until his partner was out of sight, then he picked up his book and tried to read. After less than a minute's time, his anger got the better of him and the book flew across the room, landing in a mess of creased pages and broken binding in the corner.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Heyes stepped outside and felt the crisp, early morning air against his skin. He paused on the front porch, taking a moment to savor the view; the same view he saw every morning when he stepped across the threshold of his home. He basked in the freshness of the early morning hours; a time when everything felt new and clean; when endless possibilities for the day seemed to stretch out before him. From the corner of his eye, he could see movement near the corral. Soon, his full attention was focused there and he felt his good mood ebbing away. He watched as Jeremiah, unaware that he was no longer alone in the yard, roughly jerked the lead rope belonging to one of their horses, trying to force him to move to the barn from the corral. Heyes bristled. '_That's no way to treat that animal.' _ He frowned; standing still just watching for a few more moments before making his presence known.

"Good morning," he called finally, keeping his voice light and cheerful, as he walked slowly across the yard to where Jeremiah stood.

"Oh, good morning Mr. Heyes," the young man said politely, his attitude toward the horse changing immediately. His hand reached up to stroke the big animal's neck affectionately, putting on a show for his employer.

Heyes shook his head. More and more, he was starting to realize why Kid didn't trust the boy. He'd been working there for a week now and the more Heyes saw, the less he cared for him. "What's on the schedule for this morning?" he asked lightly.

"Clay asked me to bring some of these horses into the barn; figures we might have a thunderstorm later."

Heyes nodded looking at the dark clouds already starting to gather over the mountains. "Might at that," he acknowledged. "Well, I guess I better let you get back to your work. Treat those horses well now, you hear?" he said pointedly.

"Sure thing," Jeremiah answered smoothly, punctuating his words with a slick smile.

"Oh, and I'll look after Prometheus myself," Heyes added.

The boys smile slipped slightly. "Whatever you say, Mr. Heyes. You're the boss."

Jeremiah went back to leading the horse into the barn, taking care to project an attitude of patience and caring. Heyes watched him thoughtfully for a while, deciding it might be time to talk to Kid about their new hand. He frowned, knowing that Catherine would be heartbroken if they fired Jeremiah.

As if thinking of his niece had magically caused her to appear, Heyes suddenly heard her voice in his ear. "Good morning, Uncle Heyes," she said brightly, the anger of the previous night seemingly forgotten in the light of a new day.

"Morning, Catherine, sleep well?" he asked, his frown gone, replaced by a cheerful smile that matched her own.

"Oh, yes, I did, thank you." Her eyes wandered away from him and he knew that most of her attention was being devoted to Jeremiah. He followed her eyes and saw that Jeremiah was staring back at her too. Heyes barely suppressed a shudder, suspecting what the two young people were feeling and knowing how poorly Kid was going to react.

That afternoon, with her own chores done and nothing to prevent her from doing so, Catherine sought Jeremiah out once again. She found him in the barn, pouring feed from an old wooden bucket into the feed troughs.

"Hey, there," he said as she approached, "I was wondering where you'd gotten off to. I was just thinking how nice it would be if you were here."

Catherine blushed at the compliment. He pretended not to notice, and continued talking, changing the subject, "Have you taken Belle out for a ride yet today?"

"No, I was waiting for my Pa to finish his chores. He promised we'd go today; since he couldn't go yesterday."

"Oh, that's right, he won't let you ride alone," Jeremiah said sympathetically.

Catherine grimaced. "No, he won't, and I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"Some men just can't handle seeing their little girls grow up, but I'm sure he'll come around. Say, I'm finished with the chores Clay gave me. Would you like me to ride with you?"

"Oh, that would be lovely! I should let my pa know where I'm going though; he's up on the hill somewhere. Wait for me; I'll go look for him."

"Uh, might not be time for that, Catherine. From the look of that sky, we'd better hurry up or we'll be caught in the storm before we can get back. Tell you what—I'll let your uncle Heyes know we're going while you go get Belle ready." Catherine hesitated slightly. She wasn't sure if her father would approve of Jeremiah accompanying her. As she was thinking about what her father would say, the boy flashed a smile that made her forget any hesitation she may have had. She stole a glance at her Uncle who was standing on the front porch watching the skies. She _knew_ he'd be ok with her going with Jeremiah.

"Okay, thank you!" she called as she rushed off to get Belle's saddle on her.

Jeremiah strolled out of the barn, chuckling softly to himself, marveling at how easy it was for him to get girls to fall for him. As he got closer to Heyes, he composed his face into a more serious expression. "Mr. Heyes? Catherine asked me go along with her on a short ride. She said Mr. Curry wouldn't mind as long as she wasn't alone."

"Oh? Is that right?" Heyes looked dubious, suspecting that Kid _would _mind very much, in fact.

"Yes, sir. That's what she said."

Heyes frowned, his dark eyebrows pulled together suspiciously. "No. I don't think so."

"What?"

Heyes shook his head, his eyes steady as he stared down the younger man. "I don't think so. Catherine needs to ask her father."

The muscles in Jeremiah's jaw tensed visibly, his anger rising to just below the surface of his composed exterior. His eyes narrowed; in a split second, he regained the control he was struggling with and he smiled. "Anything you say, Mr. Heyes."

"Good. I'm glad we understand each other, Wilde." Heyes' eyes held more meaning than his words, and the meaning was not lost on the younger man. "Now, get back to work."

"Sure thing, Mr. Heyes."

Heyes turned his back on Jeremiah and, without another word, walked into the house, leaving the other man standing on the porch alone. Jeremiah called after him, "I'll just go tell Catherine she'll have to wait until her pa gets back." Then he spun on his heel and rigidly strode back to the barn.

He met Catherine coming out just as he was going in. "Did you tell Uncle Heyes?" she asked cheerfully.

"Yep, sure did. It's all set. Let's go," he answered darkly.

"Whew! Didn't think I'd get finished before the rain came, but I did," Curry announced proudly, coming through the front door. "I think that sky's gonna bust open any time now." He paused and looked at his partner sitting comfortably in a chair by the fireplace, his book from the night before in his lap. "You haven't been sittin' there all afternoon, have you?"

"Of course not, Jed. I just got in a few minutes ago myself."

Kid glanced at Heyes. Something in his voice set off an alarm in his head, and looking at his face didn't make him feel any better; Heyes looked worried. And when Heyes was worried, that worried Kid.

"What's the matter, Heyes?"

"Huh? Oh, nothing…Kid, was Catherine with you?"

"Catherine? Of course not. I was out working and she was—"

The alarm in his head was clanging loudly now. "Where's Catherine, Heyes?"

Heyes shook his head, side to side, slowly; concern drawing his eyebrows down into a frown and his lower lip out in concentration. "I'm not sure, Kid. I was hoping she was with you. Wilde said—"

"Wilde! What's Wilde got to do with this?"

"Calm down, Kid. Just calm down. I'm sure she's all right. Wilde came to me earlier and asked if it would be alright if he and Catherine took a ride. Said she said it would be ok with you."

"And you _let them?_ Heyes, you know how I feel about—"

"Course I didn't let them! I told him no, that she'd have to talk to you first. But it looks like they went anyway."

"That little bastard—I'm gonna kill him when I get my hands on him," Kid's eyes flashed with fury. As if to demonstrate what they would do to Wilde, his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides; with no holster on his hip, Kid didn't know what to do with them, so they fisted and unfisted repeatedly, as though he had no control over them at all.

"Jed, please calm down. They just went for a ride. I'm sure they'll be back soon."

"Sure, I'll calm down…I'll calm down after I've choked the life out of that little, lying bastard. I'm going to go look for them." Curry turned and headed back out the door. Heyes followed him. Kid's gun belt was slung over the coat hook near the front door and he reached out to grab it as he passed by.

"What are you taking that for, Jed?" Heyes said, worriedly.

"Horse thieves," was his simple reply, as he pulled it around his hips, cinching it on securely before bending over to tie down the holster.

"Horse thieves, huh?"

"Yep, horse thieves."

"Well, you wouldn't be thinking of using it on Wilde, would ya?"

Kid glared up at him. "Heyes, what do you take me for?"

"Kid, right now I take you for a very angry father. And angry fathers can do things they—and their children—regret very much later."

Kid straightened up. "Heyes, I give you my solemn promise that I ain't gonna use this gun on anybody, not even Wilde, unless I have to."

"Kid—" Heyes said, an unspoken warning drawing the word out. The promise seemed vaguely familiar to him but he couldn't quite remember where he'd heard it before.

"Listen, Heyes. I'm not going to shoot Wilde. I promise. As a matter of fact, I'm bringing my gun partly to protect him too."

"Oh? How do you figure that?"

"Well, he doesn't' wear a gun himself, now does he?" Heyes shook his head in agreement. "And with those horse thieves out there somewhere, he _and Catherine_ could both be in a world of trouble if they happen to cross paths with those outlaws, right?" Heyes nodded in agreement. "So I'm just gonna make sure all three of us are safe. You got that?"

Heyes nodded once more and smiled thinly.

"Ok, I'll be back in a while. With Catherine."

"Well hold on, I'll go with you." Heyes tossed down his book.

"No. You stay here in case they come back."

"Ok, I'll stay on one condition."

"You're setting conditions now?"

"Yes, just one."

"Well, what is it then?"

"I'll stay here if you promise not to do anything rash. Remember, we were young once too. And young people act without thinking sometimes…driven by emotion."

"Yeah, I know that. And that's what I'm afraid of."

Heyes smiled. "Do you promise?"

Kid took a deep breath and expelled it slowly. "I promise not to do anything rash. See, I've calmed down already." He opened his cornflower blue eyes as wide as he could, shooting an innocent gaze in Heyes' direction.

"Good. Just keep telling yourself that."

Kid spun around on his good leg and left. Heyes sighed deeply. Slowly he picked his book up and tried to read but even the words of Mark Twain could not keep his mind from drifting back to his friend and his niece.

Kid Curry rode to the top of the ridge and scanned the horizon; there were no other riders anywhere in sight. He _had _calmed down considerably since riding off but he was still angry. He kept reminding himself to stay calm, as Heyes asked him to do, but it was taking all his self-control to do so.

'Dammit, where the hell did they get off to?' he wondered. The sky overhead looked bloated and purple. Kid knew the rain would not hold off much longer and when it came, it promised to be a gully-washer. "Catherine," he called out, as the first fat, warm drops landed on his skin. It was only a matter of seconds before the sky opened up. Kid was almost immediately soaked to the skin. He could barely see farther than a few feet in front of him. Remembering a small cave carved out beneath a nearby rock outcropping, he pushed his horse forward carefully.

A minute later, Kid and his mount were safely under cover inside the shallow cave. Safe, but not dry; his clothes cling to him wetly. All that did nothing to improve his mood, he was still angry but now he was also miserable.

"I hate thunderstorms," he grumbled, easing himself to the ground. He stretched out his aching right leg, the rain and wet seeping into his joints making his leg stiff and sore.

"If this is some kind of joke, it isn't funny," he shouted, looking accusingly toward the heavens. He closed his eyes and shivered slightly in his soaked clothes. His mind wandered back into another time…

… _They were alone in the shallow cave as a bolt of lightning illuminated the dark sky, for a moment flooding their sanctuary with brief, flickering light. She was sitting on his lap, their bodies pressed together, bare skin against bare skin. His head was buried against her neck, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles from her earlobe down her smooth ivory neck to her shoulder. "I love thunderstorms," he said, his voice husky with desire, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she moved on top of him.. _

"_I love you, Jed," the auburn haired young girl replied, moaning quietly as his kisses and his touch brought her closer to the edge of passion. _

_It seemed they were not the first to use this place for shelter; they had found firewood stacked inside, dry and out of the storm. After making fire, both of them had, without self-consciousness, shed their soaking wet clothes, laying them out to dry before the flames. _

_Jed had handed her his jacket to cover herself, knowing that even though it was wet on the outside, it was at least warm and dry inside and would provide her some modesty. But instead of putting it on, she spread the jacket out on the cold, rocky floor of the cave and, after sitting down on it, extended her hand to him, an offer to join her that after only a brief hesitation, he accepted. _

_Now their bodies moved in perfect harmony, each stroke pushing them higher, closer to that final brief moment of ecstasy; both reaching the summit at the same instant, as if they were two halves of the same body and soul. Gasping with pleasure and exertion, they reached and then surmounted the summit together, leaving them spent and exhausted. They shared a final hungry, but satisfied kiss and then the girl slid off his lap to lie flat on the hard ground. He moved his body around until he laid next to her, their bodies pressed together, arms and legs entwined, soaking up the warmth of the fire. _

_Once his breathing returned to normal, he grinned, his teeth gleaming whitely in the firelight. Nineteen years old, Jed Curry thought he was happier than he'd ever remembered being in his whole life. "I wish there was a thunderstorm every night."_

_The girl with her head on his chest merely sighed. "Do you really have to leave next week?" she asked, hoping somehow the answer would be different this time._

"_I told you I'd only be gone a couple of weeks. I have to find my cousin; I have to make sure he's okay. He was supposed to meet me here two weeks ago, and he didn't return the telegram I sent on Monday. I've got a bad feeling…might be nothing, but I need to make sure. I told you, he's the only family I've got left in the world. Besides, he has to be best man at the wedding." He gave her a lopsided grin to lighten the mood._

"_I know, and I love you all the more for caring," she said gently pulling herself up to place her lips against his for a long and tender kiss. "You'd better be back in two weeks though," she teased, holding her face just above his._

"_Oh yeah? Or what? You'll go off and marry someone else?" He playfully took hold of her shoulders and rolled her onto her back, switching places with her._

_The girls face suddenly became serious. "No Jed, you're the only one I'll ever want. Please be careful, I read in a newspaper in town today that there's been a lot of outlaw activity going on around Preston. Two stage coaches were robbed and then just last week a train was held up."_

"_I read that too," he said, turning away so she wouldn't see the look that clouded his eyes. The paper had mentioned the name Plumber, a name he'd heard Heyes mention in connection to the job he had taken in the area. _

"_I think the storm is letting up," she said looking past the campfire into the night. "We'd better be getting back or I'll have a lot of explaining to do to my folks."_

_Jed grinned. "How have you explained all of the other times you've snuck away with me?"_

"_Don't worry, I'll tell them you were a perfect gentleman," she laughed, "but you'd better get back here and marry me, Jed Curry, or I'll never forgive you." She narrowed her eyes and tried to give him a threatening look, but couldn't quite manage it._

"_Don't worry Eliza, I'll be back, I promise…_

…Thunder ripped through the sky, bringing Kid back to the present with a jolt. Outside the cave, the rain was letting up. Shaking his head to rid himself of the memories the rain storm and the cave had brought back, he slowly stood up, stretching his stiff muscles.

"Ready to head back out, girl?" he said to his horse, swinging onto her back as smoothly as his wet dungarees and bad leg would allow. Settled in the saddle, he urged her out of the cave, clicking his tongue and saying quietly, "Let's go."

As he rode out into the open he saw two riders coming towards him.

"Pa?" Catherine exclaimed as they neared. "What are you doing out here?"

"I'm the one that should be asking that. I told you not—"

Even though Kid was addressing his daughter, it was Wilde who spoke next. "I'm sorry, Mr. Curry. I didn't think the storm would come in this fast."

"Pa, it's not his fault, and he was a perfect gentleman. He found shelter for us and made sure I didn't get hurt. You should be thanking him instead of accusing him like he was some scoundrel." She glared at her father.

Kid flinched at her words, remembering again what Eliza had told him all those years ago; the words 'perfect gentleman' reverberating through his mind….'perfect gentleman…perfect lie,' he thought. "We'll talk about this later. Let's all just get on back to the ranch," Kid said firmly, and turned his mount toward their home.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Heyes found Kid sitting at the kitchen table, staring morosely into a half empty cup of cold black coffee, reheated from their noon meal. He hadn't moved from the spot since he and the two young people had returned to the ranch, more than an hour ago. Kid had come straight to the kitchen, Wilde had gone back to work, and Catherine had stomped upstairs without a word, slamming the door to her room loudly. As for Heyes, he was left not knowing _what_ to do. He was coming to realize that figuring out how to stay one step ahead of the law was a lot easier than figuring out how to deal with family problems.

He fired a question at his friend. "What's eating you anyway?"

Kid glanced his way, eyes cold as steel. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No, I don't mean just this. You've been acting strange every since Catherine got here. I don't understand it, you were so anxious to have her visit."

"Well, things just haven't worked out like I expected."

"Kid, you and I both know that things rarely work out like we expect them to. You have to deal with things as they came."

"Yeah, I guess…I just wanted to be the kind of father she could look up to."

"Who says you're not?" Heyes looked into his partner's face with a steady gaze.

"Come on Heyes, I was a bank robber, a gunfighter, I held up trains, and…I wasn't there for her...or Eliza."

It pained Heyes to see his oldest friend in such misery, in part because he knew he was more than a little responsible for Kid's past, but his face didn't reveal any emotion. Instead, he merely continued to look directly at his friend. "Alright, that's true, but the governor of Wyoming saw fit to give you amnesty for the crimes and Eliza has forgiven you—hasn't she?"

Kid shrugged and looked away.

"Well, hasn't she?" Heyes pressed.

"Well…yeah, she said she did."

"And Catherine, she sure was excited to come here to get to know you, wasn't she?"

Curry shrugged again and turned away.

"What about your name? She wanted to use your name, didn't she?"

The other man nodded in mute agreement.

"Kid, there's only one person here that's got a problem with your past." Heyes continued to stare at his friend's back for a minute before continuing. "I'm going to into Cheyenne tomorrow for a couple of days. The two-year-olds that Gibbs wants to buy are ready to be delivered."

"Fine," Kid muttered.

"And while I'm there, I think I'll see if I can't find out something about Wilde's past that would tell us what he might be up to here."

The last comment got Curry's attention and he spun around giving his friend a questioning look.

"For what it's worth, I think you're right about him. He's not who he claims to be, and he hasn't been honest with us."

"_Now_ you see it? Took you long enough."

"I admit it. You were right. The boy lied outright to Catherine, telling her I approved of their riding off today. And it's not just Catherine. I'd also like to know the real reason Denton fired him. There's something that just doesn't ring true with his version of things. Clay said he mentioned some places in Cheyenne where he'd worked and some people he knew there, so…I thought I'd poke around a little; see what I can dig up."

Kid nodded and gave his partner a rueful smile. "You'd better come up with something, because I'm not sure how long I can keep from strangling that little…"

Heyes laughed and slapped his friend on the back. "You'll do fine; just keep an eye on him. If we send him packing now, you'll have a mess of ruffled feathers to deal with," he said with a grin. "And keep an eye out for those horse thieves, wherever they are," he added more seriously.

"I will," Curry nodded solemnly, "good luck."

"Thanks, but maybe you better keep the luck," Heyes smiled. "I'm not the one who has to stay here and handle—" he looked up toward Catherine's room where they could hear her stomping around.

"Gee thanks, Heyes, you always did give me the 'easy' jobs."

"Don't mention it, partner. What are friends for?"

The following morning at breakfast, Catherine refused to speak to her father, which left him feeling isolated and alone. Heyes had woke before sun-up and left for Cheyenne so it was just him and his daughter at the breakfast table, making for a decidedly unpleasant meal. She had eaten hurriedly and cleared her dishes, leaving him to finish alone, with only his thoughts to keep him company. His mind kept going back to what Heyes had said to him the day before—about him being the only one who had a problem with his past. He wanted to believe those words but couldn't quite find it within himself to do so. But he realized that, at that moment, he was more interested in the future than the past; the future meaning two days from now when Heyes got back with information that would help him show Catherine what sort of man Wilde really was.

In the meantime, he wanted to try to make amends with his daughter, if possible. With a long sigh, he stood and headed upstairs. He found her sitting alone in her room looking out the window. She didn't turn around when he entered—the temperature in the room seemed several degrees cooler than the rest of the house. He sat down on her bed, fingering the pattern sewn into the quilt, and waited a minute or two to see if she would acknowledge his presence. She didn't.

He broke the silence tentatively. "I have to go into town. Thought you might like to ride with me?"

She turned and gave her father a withering look. "Why? So I won't be alone here with Jeremiah?"

"No, I just thought you might like to go. The hat you ordered from Mrs. Garvey should be in by now. And anyway, you wouldn't be alone with Wilde. He's going to be busy all day working out in the north pasture with Clay."

They sat in heavy silence for a few moments; then Kid pushed himself off the bed, the old bedsprings creaking noisily. "I'll be leaving for town in about twenty minutes, if you want to come."

She chewed on her lower lips thoughtfully before her grudging reply: "Alright, I'll go to town, but I'm still mad at you."

Kid nodded grimly. "Fair enough. I'll get the wagon hitched up."

The drive into town was no livelier than the conversation at the breakfast table had been. Kid made a few attempts at conversation but was rewarded by curt, monosyllabic answers in return and finally gave up trying. The two of them rode the rest of the way in an uneasy silence. After what seemed like an eternity had passed, they pulled up in front of the millenary. Kid dropped down to the ground and went around to his daughter's side of the wagon to offer her his hand. She had the courtesy to take it. "I have a few things to do in town but I could go with you first if you wanted me to," he offered, somewhat hopefully.

"No thank you. I'll be fine on my own."

He sighed, not wishing to argue the point. "Fine. I'll meet you back here in about an hour, alright?"

"Fine," she said simply and turned her back on him, on her way into the store.

Kid shook his head in dismay. '_How am I going to get through to her?' _

After seeing that the horses were tended to, he headed for the mercantile. Emma looked up from her work when he came in, setting the little bell above the door tinkling, and smiled warmly at him. He smiled back at her. "Just need a few things today," he said lightly. "Can you fill this order while I go do a couple of other things?"

"Well, sure, just let me see your list." She took the paper from his hand and scanned it quickly. "We have all of this in. When do you need it?"

"About an hour?" Kid asked.

"No problem," she assured him. He nodded politely, and started to turn away from her. "Oh, Mr. Curry, I wanted to tell you how glad I was that you came to the social after all. I'm sorry we didn't get a chance to talk more that evening, but…well, you know."

"Sure. I know."

"Well, this is the first time I've seen you since that night, and…well…I just wanted to tell you that I was glad you decided to come."

"Yes, ma'am, thank you. I've been busy out at the ranch."

"With your daughter," Emma smiled and nodded.

"Yeah," Kid said flatly, turning toward the door. "I'll be back in about an hour," he called over his shoulder.

"Okay," she called after him, disappointment showing on her face.

Fifteen minutes after dropping his list off at the mercantile, Kid walked purposefully into the saloon. Genevieve saw him enter but stayed at the bar, giving him a look that said she'd been neglected and he'd have to make it up to her. To her astonishment and irritation, he only nodded to her and headed for a table in the back. She stared after him as she got up and followed him to the table.

"Gonna be in town long, Kid?" she asked suggestively.

"No, not long," he answered matter-of-factly, avoiding making eye contact with her.

"Well, can I get you started on a drink then?"

"Nope, I'm waiting for someone."

She ran her index fingertip along his exposed neck, "Well, if you change your mind…"

"I won't be changing it," he said coldly.

Genevieve's finger stopped in mid-stroke; she pulled her hand away and fisted it at her side, angry at his rejection. She spun on her heel, skirts flaring around her knees and in her haste, nearly bumped headlong into the man who'd just walked up behind her.

"Watch it," she snarled, pushing past him. The man merely tipped his light gray hat and slid into the chair across from Kid.

"Well?" Kid asked anxiously.

The man glanced nervously around the room, looking for familiar faces. He leaned toward Kid over the small table and kept his voice low. "If Mr. Denton knew I was talking to you, he'd fire me on the spot. I'm taking a big risk here for you."

"I realize that. You know I appreciate it."

"Yeah, well…I couldn't find out much. Nobody at the ranch has any evidence against you about those horses that came up missing, but they all think it musta been you and Heyes; maybe trying to get back at the boss 'cause he gave you a hard time over the water rights when the river changed."

"He really believes we'd steal a coupla horses? After all we went through to get that amnesty?" Curry asked incredulously.

"Well, now that you put it that way, it don't seem likely," the other man agreed.

"What about Jeremiah Wilde?" Curry asked, lowering his voice.

"That kid? I didn't get to know him very well, but the boss didn't trust him."

"Why?"

"He was the last man out riding by where the two horses disappeared. Then the boss tried to check out his references and he couldn't. It was like the guy didn't exist. When he heard Wilde was out at your place, well, he figured maybe he was working for you all along."

Kid drummed his fingers on the tabletop, thinking hard. "You're sure no one at Denton's place is trying to set us up?"

"No way in hell. Mr. Denton would never allow a thing like that. He's about the most honest man I've ever met. I ain't never seen him do a dishonest dealing the whole time I been working for him."

If the light hadn't been so bad in the saloon, the other man could have seen how dark Kid Curry's eyes had become. "Thanks, Frank," he said after a minute.

"Sure thing, Kid. Hey, this makes us even, right? I mean you won't tell Mr. Denton how I rode with you guys on the one train job that time? 'Cause he don't allow no law breakers to work for him."

"Frank, I never woulda told him 'bout that. A man's past is his own business. You've proved yourself to everybody—you ain't broke the law in ten years."

"Thanks, Kid. And you won't tell nobody I said nuthin' either?"

"No Frank, I won't," Curry said dully.

"Okay, I'll be seeing you," Frank said quickly as he stood and hurried out of the saloon, his hat pulled low over his eyes.

Alone, Kid spent a few minutes thinking about what he'd like to do to Jeremiah Wilde and wondering if his daughter would ever forgive him if he did. He was so deep in thought that he didn't look up when Genevieve returned and sat down at the table.

"You look kinda down, Kid. Isn't there anything I can do to make you feel better?"

"No, Genevieve," he said firmly, "there isn't." He rose slowly and reached for his cane, where it stood propped against the table. He miscalculated and knocked it to the floor. He waited a moment, expecting her to pick the cane up for him, but she only took a step back and gave him an angry glare. _'Fine,'_ he thought, _'if that's the way you want it.'_ Easing himself back into his chair, he leaned over to retrieve the cane. The few other saloon patrons had turned curious stares his way. Under their watchful eyes, he pushed himself up using the table and cane for assistance. He hated the awkwardness more than the pain his leg caused; despising his own weakness and the looks of pity that were cast his way.

Stepping out onto the street, Kid was surprised to see Catherine waiting for him holding her hat box. "I told them you'd be in to pay for it later," she said in an odd tone, staring past him toward the saloon.

"Oh, okay, that's fine," he said, hoping the new hat would cheer her up.

"Who's that?" Catherine asked; her tone accusing.

"Who's who?" Kid glanced back and frowned at the sight of Genevieve standing just outside the door waving coyly at him.

"Bye now, Kid, don't stay away so long next time," she said with a suggestive lilt in her voice.

"Just a friend," he said uncomfortably, unable to look his daughter in the face; even so, he could hear the hurt and anger in her voice.

"You have NO right to lecture me on proper conduct between men and women." She spun around and stalked off down the street, her back stiff with rage and upset.

Kid watched her walk away; then glared back at Genevieve, who wore a look of smug satisfaction on her face. She put her fingers to her lips and blew him an exaggerated kiss. His eyes stayed glued to the woman for a moment longer; all he felt was disgust…for her and for himself. He turned to follow his daughter, his step slower and less sure than hers had been.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Kid was breathing heavily as he trudged up the stairs toward his daughter's room. Heyes had been gone for two days and the rift between he and the girl was only getting wider. He'd put this off long enough; they needed to talk.

The sight of the empty room and neatly made bed gave him a start.

"Catherine?" he called out, fear creeping into his voice.

No answer. Curry headed back downstairs and out the front door. Clay was standing near the corral closing the gate.

"Where's Wilde?" he demanded, taking the other man by surprise.

"Out in the barn I think, doing some more repairs on the harness."

Curry slowly made his way to the barn. His leg had been hurting more than usual lately, probably a result of the longer days that he'd been spending in the saddle and walking around the horses since Catherine had arrived. As he came to the corner or the barn, he caught sight of two figures huddled against the wall on the far side. From the warm glow of the moonlight he could distinguish Catherine and Jeremiah locked in a passionate embrace. Kid stopped in his tracks and stared at the two young lovers.

"Catherine!" he shouted angrily. "Get back to the house."

The two broke apart instantly and turned their surprised faces in the direction of the voice. "Pa?" She gasped in surprise.

"Now, Catherine. I'd like a word with Mr. Wilde." Kid stood with his legs apart and his hands at his side, reminiscent of earlier days. The cane he'd been holding in his right hand had been tossed to the ground.

"Pa, what are you doing? We were just…kissing."

"I said go to the house, Catherine," he repeated, his voice had a steely calm to it that frightened her.

"It'll be fine, sweetheart, I'll see you in the morning," Wilde whispered gently to the girl as she walked slowly toward her father.

With one last glance back at Jeremiah, she began to run toward the house.

After waiting until his daughter was out of sight, Curry began to walk slowly toward the young man, letting his weight fall painfully on his right leg without a limp or the cane for support.

"Wilde, I want you off this property tonight. Go pack you things and I'll have Clay settle up the wages I owe you." Curry's gaze bore into the younger man as he spoke.

"Well, Mr. Curry, I don't think I can do that. See, Catherine and I, we're planning to be married." The younger man said the words with a smile bordering on a sneer.

"The hell you are! You barely know each other. You're nothing but a two bit hustler and I'll prove it." Curry's eyes blazed with anger now.

"Oh, come now, Mr. Curry, or can I call you _'Kid'_," Wilde taunted. "You know how girls fall for a man who's a little _'dangerous'_, isn't that how it was with you and her mother? Of course, you never actually married her, you left after you took what you –"

Before Wilde knew what was happening, Curry's gun was in his hand and the barrel was pressed against his throat.

'_Well now, maybe this will get interesting after all,' _Wilde thought, as the adrenalin pumped through his veins. He had to admit, he was more than a little impressed by the move.

Curry leaned close and gave the younger man a look that would have caused most men to cower. "If you ever say anything like that to me again, I—will—kill you. Now get out of here. You don't work for me anymore. If I see you on my land again I'll shoot you on sight." The gun and the tone of voice sent the message that the promise would be carried out.

Wilde drew in a breath, as he calculated his next move. "How are you going to explain this to your lovely daughter? Shooting her fiancé in cold blood?" he suddenly regretted the remark when he felt the cold barrel of the gun press harder against his throat and heard the unmistakable click as Curry cocked the weapon.

The younger man let out a relieved breath when he saw Catherine reappear at the barn door.

"Now, Mr. Curry, please don't kill me," he said in a louder, meeker voice.

"Pa!" Catherine shouted from behind her father. "What are you doing? How dare you threaten Jeremiah?"

"Catherine, go back to the house." Curry said, without turning around or removing the gun from its place lodged against Wilde's neck.

"No, if you send him away then I'll go with him. I love him." She ran around and stood beside the younger man.

"You are not leaving this house," Curry proclaimed, barely holding his fury in check.

"What are you going to do? Shoot me too?" the girl fired back indignantly.

Jeremiah could hardly contain a smile. _'This is working out even better than I could have hoped,'_ he thought smugly.

Kid slowly lowered his gun, as though just now realizing it was pointed at Wilde.

"Why don't we just talk about this when we've all calmed down," Jeremiah suggested calmly, as he pulled Catherine close.

"There's nothing to talk about, you're leaving," Curry stated flatly.

"Pa, you can't turn him out in the dark, where will he go?"

Kid looked into his daughter's tear stained face and then back at the young man next to her.

"Alright, he can stay until morning, but you get back to the house—now."

The girl turned, and with once last scathing look at her father, stomped off toward the ranch house.

"First light, Wilde," Curry growled, then picked up his cane and followed his daughter, leaning heavily on the wooden support.

Catherine was waiting for her father when he entered the house.

"I'm not my mother, you know," she said coldly.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"That's how you met her wasn't it? Working on her parent's farm?"

"Your mother has nothing to do with this," Kid fumed.

"Oh doesn't she? Isn't that what you are afraid of?

"I'm _afraid_ that boy isn't the knight in shining armor that you think he is."

"You think he's like you, but he's not," her look challenged him to argue. When he didn't, she continued. "He's not an outlaw, and he's not going to leave me."

The words cut deeply, but Kid tried not to show it. "We'll see," was all he said as he turned and limped slowly toward one of the large chairs by the fireplace.

Catherine glared at her father for a minute before turning and running up the stairs to her room.

Kid sat alone in the living room, unable to sleep but unable to set his mind on anything productive either. Finally, feeling closed in and frustrated, he walked out onto the porch and looked across the darkness of their property. There was a half moon in the sky, giving just enough light to make out the silhouettes of the trees. _'When had things gone so wrong?' _Drained from the events of the evening, he leaned back against the doorpost and closed his eyes.

The sound of movement and of horse's hooves near the barn caught his attention. Instinctively, he stepped off the porch and slowly made his way to the barn, keeping himself hidden as much as possible in the shadows. He was thankful that he still had his gun strapped on. Both he and Heyes usually removed their gun belts when they came into the house, especially with Catherine visiting.

Kid watched from cover of the house, as a horse and rider left the barn. _'What is he doing now? He could have left earlier this evening if he'd wanted to go.'_

With a glance up toward his daughter's room, and hoping that she was safely in bed, he made his decision and hurried into the barn to saddle his horse. Following Wilde wouldn't be difficult, keeping the younger man from spotting him would. Curry kept his distance, but took care not to lose him. Wilde was headed toward the ridge on the edge of their property, once he reached it, he could lose himself in the trees and cliffs. The younger man rode purposefully, as if he knew exactly where he was going, but wasn't in a hurry. When they reached the ridge, Curry circled around to try and watch Wilde from a distance. Straining to see through the trees, he could just make out the light of a campfire. Figuring that for Wilde's destination, he headed for a vantage point above the campsite.

Securing his horse to a tree, Curry crept to the edge of the ridge and looked down. Two men—one of them Wilde—stood next to a campfire talking. Four horses stood quietly, a make-shift corral a slight distance away. _'I bet those are Denton's stolen horses…Wilde's probably telling his partner to get ready to move out soon.'_

Not wanting the men to know they had been discovered, Curry returned to his horse. _'I'll tell Catherine I've reconsidered and Jeremiah can stay a while, then I'll ride to town and bring the sheriff out to this campsite.'_ Set on the plan, he rode back to his ranch.

Alone in her room and unable to sleep, Catherine sat by her window looking out into the moonlit night. She'd had such high hopes for her visit—getting to know her father had been her strongest desire for the last nine months. She wasn't sure what had gone wrong, or why her father had been so angry. He hadn't seemed that way in New Mexico, they had gotten along well while he was recovering from the gunshot wound. The injury he received saving her life—he'd been her hero then. Now…he seemed distant, angry, not at all the man she'd thought he was.

Jeremiah had been such a wonderful surprise, and her heart warmed just thinking about him. She couldn't understand how her father could dislike him so. He'd asked her to marry him. She had told him that things were moving too fast, but he been so persistent. She'd found herself saying yes before she knew it. After all, how often does someone like Jeremiah Wilde come along? If she said no, he'd find another girl and she'd lose him forever.

Movement by the side corral caught her eye and she strained to see what it was. As the figure moved closer she recognized her father riding toward the house. _'Now what on earth was he doing out in the middle of the night?'_ she wondered.

Finally drowsy, she dropped onto her bed and closed her eyes; visions of being Mrs. Jeremiah Wilde floating through her dreams.

Early the next morning, Kid dressed and made a pot of coffee. He planned to walk over to Clay's as soon as he'd had a cup of coffee. Wilde was staying with Clay in the cabin the man had built on the edge of the property. He hoped that if he told Wilde that he could stay, it would delay any plans to move the horses until after the sheriff arrived.

He was about to pour his cup of coffee when a knock sounded on the front door. Surprised at the intrusion so early in the morning, he hurried to the door wondering if someone was in trouble. _'Maybe it's Clay here to tell me Wilde didn't come back last night,'_ he thought uneasily as he reached the door.

Kid opened the door to a sight which made his blood run cold.

"What can I do for you Sheriff Caldwell?" Curry asked, looking past the sheriff to Denton and his two ranch hands that he had tangled with in the saloon two weeks before.

"Mr. Curry, I was hoping you could explain how Mr. Denton's stolen horses ended up in your corral?" Caldwell asked formally.

"How his _what?_" Curry pushed past the sheriff to step onto the porch and look into the corral. Sure enough, it held four new horses. _'Damn that kid, he brought 'em back here last night.'_ He looked back to see Clay and Jeremiah walking toward the house with one of Caldwell deputies.

"Do you think_ I_ put 'em there?" Curry challenged.

"This is your property Mr. Curry, and you are in possession of stolen horses." Caldwell stated the obvious.

"Unless you have an explanation, I'm afraid I'm—"

"There isn't any explanation that can change what's right in front of your eyes!" Denton exclaimed. "Arrest this man immediately or I'll wire the Federal Marshall and tell him you're obstructing justice."

"You'll have to come into town with me and sort this out," Caldwell instructed.

"Those horses weren't there yesterday," Clay exclaimed as they reached the house.

"He must have brought them in last night after we went to sleep," Wilde said to Clay.

Kid stared at Jeremiah. "You did this," he accused. "Don't think this is over Wilde."

"I don't know what you're talking about Mr. Curry?" Jeremiah said, feigning confusion.

Denton and his men removed their horses while Clay went to the barn to Kid's horse ready.

"Can I get my gun? Or am I under arrest?" Kid asked, his voice steady and revealing no emotion.

"Bill, get Mr. Curry's gun," Caldwell instructed one of his deputies. "And hold on to it while we ride into town."

"Since you're in possession of stolen property, I'm going to have to put you under arrest and take you in, until this gets straightened out."

Kid glared at the man.

"You understand, the only evidence I have in this case points to you and Mr. Heyes. Where is your partner, Mr. Curry?"

"Headed out yesterday for Cheyenne, he'll be back tomorrow."

"Let's go Curry," Caldwell said, taking Kid's arm and leading him away from the house.

The pain in Kid's leg, which he'd barely noticed the night before, began to return as he felt sharp stabs with every step he took toward his horse.

"We'll talk about this in my office," Caldwell said quietly.

"What's going on?" Catherine called from inside the house, the arrival of the men and the loud voices had awoken her.

Jeremiah seemed to be instantly at her side on the porch. "Sheriff Caldwell is arresting your father for stealing Mr. Denton's horses," he told her quickly.

"What? No, I don't believe it, he wouldn't!" The girl looked desperately from Jeremiah to her father.

"We just have to go into town and sort some things out miss," Caldwell said calmly.

"He's guilty, the proof is right here," Denton accused loudly, as he and his men headed up toward the main road.

"Everything will be fine, Catherine," Curry told her as he mounted his horse.

"Clay, take care of the place until I get back," he instructed the older man.

Catherine could only stare after them as they rode out.

"No," she said again when they were out of sight. "I don't believe it."

Jeremiah stood on the porch with his arm around Catherine, who had watched the departure of her father and Sheriff Caldwell with a look of fear and shock.

"I know how you must feel, sweetheart, you really thought he'd changed didn't you?"

"What?" she stared at him in disbelief.

"You wanted to believe he'd reformed, it's only natural."

Catherine blinked and looked at Jeremiah again. "Are you saying you believe he stole those horses?"

"Catherine, I saw him go out last night."

"No, he couldn't have…he wouldn't have," she thought back to the early morning hour when she had seen him riding toward the barn. _'He had been out…'_

"Catherine, everything be alright, I'll help you through it. Then once we're married, we'll run the ranch together."

"What are you talking about?"

"Didn't they tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I heard them talking about it late one night after you'd gone to bed. They wanted you to inherit the ranch if anything happened to them. They said they'd already had the papers drawn up."

Catherine continued to stare at Jeremiah in shock.

"No, I still don't believe he stole those horses."

"Catherine, I told you, I saw him bring them in," Jeremiah said more forcefully.

Catherine dropped her eyes to the ground.

"There must be another…explanation," she said finally.

"I'm sorry, Catherine. I'd been suspecting that they were up to something, I think that's the real reason he wanted me off the ranch."

Catherine bit her lip and looked toward the mountains. _'No, this just can't be,'_ she thought desperately. _'This isn't how it was supposed to happen.' _At last, unable to hold back the tears any longer she turned to Jeremiah and buried her head in his shoulder

"Trust me, I'll take care of everything," Wilde said, wrapping his arms protectively around her. Looking out over the expanse of the property, a victorious smile spread across his face.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Surprises

Kid rode beside Caldwell, while one deputy led and another trailed behind. None of the men had spoken since leaving the ranch. The mountains along the ridge still had a rosy pink glow and the morning sun had not yet begun to warm the cool crisp air but Kid felt a chill in his bones that had little to do with air temperature.

"That's where they were keeping the horses," Kid said finally, breaking the silence and gesturing toward the ridge.

"Who?" Caldwell looked over with a start.

"Wilde and his partner," Curry explained simply.

Caldwell reined his horse to a sudden stop as all three lawmen turned toward Curry with expectant expressions. "I thought you didn't know anything about the stolen horses?"

"I said I didn't steal 'em, and I didn't put 'em in my corral. I didn't say I didn't know who _did_."

"Well why didn't you say so back there? If you know any more about this you'd better come clean with me or I'm not going to be able to help you."

"Help me?" Curry almost laughed. "I thought all you wanted to do was get rid of me—get me out of your town and locked up somewhere."

Caldwell narrowed his eyes and looked directly at Curry. "Look, I never made any bones about the fact that I wasn't exactly pleased that two such…"

"Successful outlaws?" Curry suggested.

"Infamous scoundrels," Caldwell continued, "got a clean slate and took up residence in my town, but, the fact remains—you've been law-abiding citizens ever since you've taken up residence here and if the governor of the territory says you're not outlaws anymore, well, who am I to say different. Now you better tell me what you know or I _will_ lock you up for obstructing justice."

The former outlaw studied the lawman's face, letting what he had just heard sink in. "Okay," he replied finally. "I've had suspicions about Wilde ever since he first came to work for me. Something just wasn't quite right but I couldn't put my finger on it. Last night I…we had words and I fired him. I didn't trust him so I was keeping an eye on him. He rode out in the middle of the night and I followed him up there to the ridge. That's when I saw him meet another man down in a little gully where they had the horses."

"You saw the other man? Who was he?"

"It was too dark to make out the face, but from the way he moved, I'd say he was young, about Wilde's age."

"If it was so dark, how do you know the horses were Denton's?"

"I didn't. But do you know of any other missing horses around here?" Curry asked sarcastically.

Caldwell let out a sigh of impatience. "Well, can you take us there?" he asked.

Curry merely shrugged and nodded.

"Alright then, lead the way." Caldwell and the deputies fell into line and the four riders turned toward the foothills. As the group descended into the gully, the men rode slowly and cautiously, keeping watch for any signs of another man.

"There," Curry said finally, pointing to the remains of a campsite. There were no signs of life, human or animal.

"Looks like they cleared out," one of the deputies commented, looking around.

"You can tell they had horses here," the other noted, as he examined the make-shift corral and the trampled earth within its perimeter. "Hey, you better come over here," he shouted suddenly.

"What is it?" Caldwell asked, riding toward his deputy.

"Looks like a body," the man replied grimly, pointing to something partially concealed behind a clump of scrub brush.

Caldwell dismounted and leaned down to examine the body. After a minute or so, he stood up straight and declared, "He's dead alright. A gunshot straight through the chest."

"Billy," Curry declared as he joined the sheriff.

"You know him?" Caldwell asked, surprised.

"Yeah, he worked for us for a couple weeks—left right before we hired Wilde."

"Does Wilde carry a gun?"

"No, I've never seen him with one," Curry admitted with a resigned sigh.

"And you said you were here last night?" Caldwell asked.

"Yeah," Kid said, his face hardening.

Both deputies reached for their guns.

"Put 'em away, boys. Curry wouldn't have brought us here if he'd shot this man."

Kid gave the sheriff a skeptical look. "Are you saying you believe me?"

"Well…Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry might have been a lot of things, but they were never stupid. And working as hard as you two did to get your ranch going, then blowing it all by stealing a couple of your neighbor's horses, now, that'd be just plain stupid."

Kid's face relaxed and he managed a slight smile. "Well now, sheriff, I think that might just be the nicest thing you ever said to me."

As he looked down at Billy's body, the smile faded. "If Wilde shot his partner, he's more dangerous than I thought. I've got to get back home."

"Now wait a minute, I still don't have any proof that Wilde is involved in this. I hate to remind you, but all of the evidence so far still points to you."

"I thought you said you believed me?"

"I do, but I have to enforce the law—and that's based on evidence, not my own gut instinct."

"Gut instinct has always worked pretty well for me," Kid grumbled. Right now he was wishing he'd acted on his own instinct a lot sooner. "Look, Sheriff, I'm not leaving my daughter alone out there with a killer." Curry stiffened and the two deputies drew their guns once again.

"Everybody just relax. I just need you to come into town with me until we get this figured out. Is there anyone your daughter could stay with?"

"Well," he pondered, "maybe Charlotte Gray, the school teacher."

"Alright. Bud, you ride over to Miss Gray's place and tell her what's happened, then take her over to the ranch and collect Miss Curry and her things. Make sure they both get back to town safely."

"Yes sir," Bud nodded as he returned to his horse.

"Tom, you take care of the body. Mr. Curry and I have to get back to town. I want to send a few telegrams and see if I can find out anything about Jeremiah Wilde."

The ride back into town was quiet, as both men had their minds on the events of the morning. "So how come, if I'm under arrest, you don't have me tied up or held at gunpoint?" Kid asked finally, as they neared the town.

"Would you prefer that?" Caldwell asked dryly.

"Well, no, I was just wondering," Kid said innocently, still trying to figure this sheriff out, and wondering just which instincts he should be listening to.

"The way I figure it," Caldwell began slowly, "any man who could outrun the best lawmen and bounty hunters in the territory for over ten years…well, he wouldn't let himself get taken in by me, if he was really guilty." Caldwell raised an eyebrow and looked at Curry.

"Maybe I'm just losing my touch," Kid replied with a humorless laugh.

"Hmph," Caldwell grunted, "we'll see."

Two hours later, Sheriff Caldwell and Kid Curry were seated across from each other at a small table in Caldwell's office. "How long do you think it'll be before you hear back from those other sheriff friends of yours?" Curry asked edgily, glancing up from the poker hand he was holding.

"It'll be a while I suppose. I asked them to check with local ranchers, look through their posters, do a little digging, so it could take a while before we hear anything."

"I still can't believe Billy was mixed up in this. I thought he was a nice kid."

"Well, sometimes it's hard to tell," Caldwell said with a shake of his head. "You say he worked for you for two weeks?"

"Yeah, about that, I gave him two weeks pay when he left."

"Why'd he leave?"

"I'm not sure; he didn't give a reason, just quit on us. I guess it was about the same time Denton fired Wilde."

"Hm, and two horses had already disappeared from Denton's place. Maybe they were just going to take those two and go." Caldwell studied his cards for a moment.

"Maybe, but Wilde changed his mind. At the social, he said he was looking for work." Kid glanced at the clock on the wall. "Shouldn't that deputy of yours be back by now? I want to make sure Catherine and Charlotte are safe."

"It might have taken them a while to get her things together. I'm sure everything is fine. Wilde doesn't know we're on to him yet. I don't think he'll try anything. Are you gonna bet or just sit there looking at your cards?" Caldwell looked back at Curry impatiently.

"I'm not very good at waiting," Kid admitted, tossing down his hand and pushing back in his chair.

Caldwell sighed, then stood and walked to the desk where Curry's gun belt lay draped over the back of the sheriff's chair. He picked the belt and gun up in his left hand and pulled his own gun out of his holster. "Okay, Curry, it's about time we got this over with. Let's go. Out back…now." He gestured toward the back door with six-shooter in his hand.

Curry only stared back. "What's this all about? What are you doing?"

"Something I've wanted to do ever since you first moved to this town. Now, let's go."

Kid's face registered his shock as he stood, and obeying the sheriff's order, walked toward the back door.


	17. Chapter 17

Charlotte coaxed her horse to go faster. Heyes' telegram, delivered to her house yesterday after nightfall, was tucked safely away in the pocket of her riding skirt. The note didn't go into much detail but what it did say was setting warning bells ringing in her head and they were getting louder by the minute.

He had said she should deliver the message to Jed as quickly as she could, but she knew that it wouldn't have been safe to try to ride out to the ranch last night by herself; especially considering that there were horse thieves in the area. So she had waited, impatient and increasingly worried as the minutes ticked by, until the livery stable opened in the morning so she could retrieve her horse and head out. She had decided to forgo her buggy for a faster mode of transportation; horseback.

Charlotte was comfortable on the back of a horse, having grown up on a ranch much like the one Heyes and Jed were running right now. She didn't ride as much any more, because it wasn't considered proper, by some, for the local school mistress to be astride a horse, galloping full-bore down a dusty road; exactly as she was doing right now.

All the telegram said was that Jed's suspicions were correct, that he should be careful and watch over Catherine, and that Heyes would be back as soon as possible. Charlotte tried to imagine what suspicions Heyes was talking about and hadn't come up with anything. But at least it gave her something to think about on the trip out to the ranch. Before she knew it, she was within sight of the big white house where Heyes lived.

She started to relax as she got closer to the house. Everything seemed to be in order; the ranch seemed quiet and nothing seemed amiss. But as she got even closer her unease returned—if anything, the ranch seemed _too _quiet. There wasn't much of _anything_ going on and she wondered where everyone was.

Heyes was angry…at himself. And anger had always been his enemy. Anger meant loss of control and Heyes was very much about control; control of his emotions, control of his circumstances, control of his own destiny. But when he was angry, really angry, he let go of a tiny bit of that control and sometimes the results were disastrous.

He hadn't listened when Kid first told him that Wilde couldn't be trusted. And that's why he was so angry now. If he had taken his partner more seriously, if he'd paid more attention instead of ignoring Kid's instincts, they never would have hired the boy and he would have had to move on. They wouldn't be dealing with such a mess now.

He had just been so involved in the new life they'd built for themselves in Pine Bluff and on this ranch, and even more importantly, his love for Charlotte, that he hadn't been able to hear what Kid had been trying to tell him. And because of that he was angry—as in, thoroughly pissed off—at himself.

But he was ready to set things right now; he had enough information on Oliver Meek, alias Jeremiah Wilde, to convince the sheriff that the young man was the most likely culprit behind all the thieving and mischief that had been confounding their ranch and Denton's too.

He had planned to stay in Cheyenne overnight and set out at dawn, but , after finding himself unable to sleep, he had left the soft hotel bed hours before first light and started home to the ranch and to his family. So It was barely mid-morning when he rode onto their property. Fleetingly, he noticed that everything seemed quiet and he took that as a positive sign. If he hadn't been so enmeshed in his anger, he might have realized things were not as routine as they seemed at first glance.

He rode his mare slowly into the barn, intending to put her into her stall for the time being and return later, after talking with Kid, to tend to her. In the barn, he swung his leg over the horse's rump and dismounted a few feet away from the stall. He led the horse into the stall and turned to pull the door shut behind the big animal. With the gate securely latched, Heyes headed for the open barn door. Just as he reached the opening, he caught a glimpse of movement over his left shoulder and heard the soft rustle of fabric rubbing against itself. Then, the blinding blow to the back of his head pushed everything else out of his mind right before he fell heavily, facedown to the ground.

The skin on the back of Charlotte's neck was tingling. It was too quiet. Suddenly, she noticed movement just outside the barn. She wasn't quite close enough to see clearly, but she could make out at least one person standing there, slightly hunched over and peering down at something on the ground. As she got closer, she could recognize the ranch's hired hand. As she watched, she saw him raise his arm above his head. Illogically, it reminded her of one of her students asking permission to talk. At this distance, she thought she could see something clutched in his hand but she couldn't be sure.

He didn't seem to notice her at first, but suddenly, his face swung toward her as though he was startled to realize he was not alone. He lowered his arm and knelt on the ground, reaching out to touch the form crumbled before him. With horror, Charlotte recognized Heyes' hat lying crushed and soiled in the dirt; then realized that the object lying motionless on the hard packed earth was not an object at all. It was a man; and not just any man, but Hannibal Heyes. Fear rising in her throat, she pushed her horse faster again and, bounding down from her horse in one easy sweeping motion, ran to her lover's side.

Jeremiah's eyes never left her. He put on a carefully staged show of concern for Heyes as she dropped to her knees on the other side of the fallen man.

"What happened to him?" she asked, her voice high-pitched and unrecognizable to her own ears.

"He must have fallen from his horse," Jeremiah replied, feigning concern. "I found him here just now." Charlotte glanced into the barn and saw Heyes' horse in the stable. In the half-light of the big empty building, she could see that the animal still wore its saddle and all of Heyes' gear.

Then Heyes moaned quietly, almost inaudibly and Charlotte's attention refocused on him. He was unconscious and white as chalk. His breathing was shallow and irregular. Charlotte carefully lifted his head in her hands, examining his wound with gentle fingers. "He's bleeding."

"Looks like a nasty gash. Probably needs medical attention," Jeremiah offered. "Maybe you should ride back to town and get the doctor."

She didn't seem to hear him. "Go find Mr. Curry. We'll need help getting him into the house."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but Mr. Curry isn't here. He headed into town at first light this morning."

She looked sharply at him, "I didn't see him. I just came from that way."

"Now that is strange, Miss Gray. But maybe he took a different road for some reason."

Her penetrating gaze never left his face. He maintained a neutral expression. "What about the other ranch hand…Clay. Where is he?"

"He's out doing some fence work on the far north property line. Don't expect him back before nightfall."

"Catherine?"

"I think she's in her room resting. She wasn't feeling too well this morning after her pa left. I don't think we should bother her right now."

Charlotte was beginning to realize she didn't like this boy. His words were polite enough but he delivered them with a thinly concealed arrogance that rankled her.

"Ok, we'll do it by ourselves. Help me move him into the house and I'll tend to him while you go to town for Doc Weaver."

"Miss Gray, I really think that you should go for—"

"Help me," she commanded, trying to lift Heyes' unresponsive body into a sitting position. Jeremiah leaned back on his haunches, his hands on his hips, indecisive. She snapped her eyes onto his face and repeated, in her best 'stern schoolteacher' voice, "I said, help me carry him."

Wilde frowned; Charlotte was puzzled by his apparent unwillingness to assist her in moving Heyes. Finally, he grabbed beneath Heyes' armpits. Charlotte grabbed his legs, and the two of them carried Heyes into the house and into his bedroom. They laid him on the bed and Charlotte set to work, first making him comfortable and then tending to the cut on his head.

Jeremiah lingered, watching her efforts warily; watching Heyes even more warily. Charlotte glanced up, as if noticing him there for the first time. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go get the doctor."

"Yes, ma'am. Right away," he answered, courteously. But his feet didn't move. He remained standing next to Heyes' bed, as if waiting for something. Charlotte stared at him pointedly, her eyebrows arched in the unasked question. Because he had no answer to give her, he finally left, backing out of the room as he went, his eyes never leaving Heyes.

"Close the door behind you," she said. 

"Yes, ma'am," he replied dutifully, his eyes frosty with resentment at being ordered around. He pulled the door shut behind him, but Charlotte got the feeling that he was reluctant to leave. For the life of her, she couldn't figure out the reason but she doubted that it was out of concern for his boss. Even after he left the room, she felt his presence hovering over her and Heyes and sensed that he was still in the hallway just outside the closed door. She frowned, trying to guess his motivation but before long, her mind dismissed Wilde; she had too much to do now, caring for Heyes, to let the boy cloud her thinking.

Jeremiah didn't realize it but Charlotte had him pegged. He was indeed standing immobile just outside the closed door, in part listening for any sounds of Heyes coming to and in part, trying to calculate what his next move should be. He certainly had no intention of going for the doctor; what he really needed was a minute alone with the famous Hannibal Heyes so he could finish what he had started, and he would have had that, except for the untimely arrival of the meddling school teacher. Now he was at a loss as to what to do. He started seeing the plan that he had laid out so carefully begin to unravel. Kid Curry was out of the way, and probably would be for a long time; horse thieving carries a heavy sentence in these parts; but Hannibal Heyes was becoming a problem.

He could just burst back into the bedroom, take the woman by surprise, and kill them both; but that would put an end to any part of his plan being realized. He'd lose the ranch _and_ Catherine and he hated the thought of losing the ranch.

He glanced at the closed door leading into Catherine's bedroom and imaged her lying on her bed, tears staining her soft cheeks. He thought about going to her, comforting her…that could be very satisfying right now. But there were things to think through first, plans to be redrawn. Catherine would have to wait; he'd have her soon enough.

Charlotte poured water from the enamel pitcher into the matching enamel basin. She'd found a fresh cloth and some bandages in Heyes' washroom and made herself busy gently washing the dried blood away from his head. After applying a bandage to the wound, she leaned down and softly kissed his forehead. He looked so vulnerable laying there; the white bandage wrapped around his head white in stark contrast to his dark hair. His face was white too, as if all the blood had drained out of it. He was still unconscious.

She took his hand in hers and sat looking at him without speaking. Something was bothering her; something about the young man, but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. She wished Heyes would wake up so she could ask him what his telegram had meant. It had to have something to do with Wilde, she was almost positive of that.

Suddenly, a shiver ran through her. She realized what had been bothering her since arriving at the ranch and finding Heyes injured and Wilde standing over him. Fear turned her blood cold as she remembered seeing Heyes' horse in his stall, door shut, waiting for someone to come and remove his saddle.

Wilde had said that Heyes had fallen from his horse and hit his head, but that was impossible. If it had happened the way he told it, the horse would have been outside of his stall, not inside with the door shut.

Then another image filled her mind…Wilde holding something she couldn't recognize in his hand as she rode up and then, later, noticing a large, jagged rock lying on the ground a few feet away from Heyes' prone body, where Wilde had probably tossed it away before she got close enough to notice what he was doing. That's why he knelt down next to Heyes. So she wouldn't be as likely to notice him throwing the rock to the side.

"Oh my God," she breathed softly. "He was going to kill him. If I hadn't gotten here when I did…" She shuddered at the thought, gripping Heyes' hand more tightly within her own, holding on to him like his life depended on it. 'Where is he now?' she wondered, knowing that, if he had just tried to kill Heyes, the one place he wasn't, was on the way into town to get the doctor.

Another chill coursed through her body, remembering what Wilde had said. If he was telling the truth, then she and Catherine were alone here on the ranch with him, the only other man unconscious in the bed next to her. "I've got to get to Catherine," she told herself, "before he does."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

More Questions Answered

The pillow was still damp with her tears, but her crying had stopped long ago. She lay curled up on top of her bed, clutching the worn and faded doll that she had brought with her from her home in New Mexico. Her thoughts were confused and conflicted. She wanted to believe that her father was innocent, but the evidence against him was strong. She had witnessed herself that he'd gone out the night before, without explanation, and then suddenly the other rancher's horses had been in his corral. And her father had been an outlaw most of his life, so maybe he'd reverted to his old ways? 'No, he wouldn't…and even if he did, he wouldn't be careless enough to bring the stolen animals here to his own ranch. It doesn't make any sense.'

But Jeremiah insisted that he had done exactly that. 'He loves me; I know he does. He wants us to be married. So why would he lie to me?' she thought, her mind swimming around in circles, going back and forth over the same questions time and again.

She heard sounds from the hall outside her room, voices and shuffling footsteps. Then she thought she heard the door to her uncle's room open. 'Is Uncle Heyes back so soon?' she wondered, glad to have something other than her father to think about. 'He'll know what to do.' She sat up on her bed, ready to run to her uncle and implore him to help his friend, her father. Then she realized that neither of the voices she'd heard sounded like Heyes. One of the voices belonged to a woman and the other sounded like Jeremiah's.

She frowned, wondering why Jeremiah would be upstairs in their house, and who the woman with him was. She wanted to peek out into the hall and see for herself, but she was afraid to. She didn't want Jeremiah to see her spying on him, so she sat quietly on her bed, straining to hear.

Nothing more was audible for several minutes. She sensed that the two people had gone into her uncle's room but couldn't imagine, didn't want to imagine what they might be doing in there.

After a few more minutes, she heard the door to Heyes' room opening and being pulled shut again; then silence.

After another few minutes had passed, she heard footsteps crossing the hall from Heyes' room to the stairs and then fading as the person descended the staircase. She could tell by the gait and the sound of the steps that it was more than likely a man, Jeremiah, who'd passed by her door. That meant that the woman who had come up with him had remained. Catherine was becoming more and more concerned.

Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she dared a peek out of her door, opening it just wide enough for her to see down the hallway to where Heyes' room was. Just as she did, however, the door to the room burst open and Charlotte Gray rushed through it. Catherine couldn't have been more surprised to see her there than if she'd been the Queen of England.

She opened her own door wider, shock at seeing the school teacher running out of her uncle's bedroom making her thoughts sluggish. Charlotte gasped in surprise too, probably upset at being caught in a man's room. But instead of looking embarrassed or ashamed, she just looked determined and a little bit afraid.

Catherine thought she would flee down the stairs and was flabbergasted when the older woman muttered, "Oh, thank God, Catherine. You're all right." And then glancing over her shoulder nervously, she ran to where Catherine stood holding onto the door knob of her open door and grabbed her by the hand, dragging her back into Heyes' room with her. With one last quick, nervous glance down the hallway Charlotte pulled the door shut and then leaned against the door, breathing deeply.

Catherine watched her, confused; wondering what had happened to make the normally calm and collected school teacher act so afraid, and wondering what she and Jeremiah had been doing up here. "What are you doing, Miss Gray? And did I hear Jeremiah with you?"

Instead of answering, Charlotte gestured toward the bed. Catherine turned and for the first time realized that her uncle was lying there, on top of the covers. The sight of him, still and pale, with his head bandaged, made her cry out quietly. She ran to his side and peered down at him, gripping his hand much like Charlotte herself had been doing just a few minutes ago.

"What happened to him?" Catherine asked, her eyes filling up with tears.

"I'm not sure. Jeremiah told me he'd fallen from his horse and hit his head, but I don't think I believe his story."

Catherine felt herself becoming angry. Through her tears, she demanded, "Why don't you believe him? Why would he lie?" Her words felt jarringly familiar, and she realized she'd just been wondering the same thing about her fiancé after what he'd said about her father. A tiny pinch of doubt tightened in her stomach but she refused to allow it to grow.

"I'm not sure, Catherine. I don't know all of what's going on here but when I arrived at the ranch with the telegram Heyes sent for your father, I found Heyes like this and Jeremiah was with him."

"That doesn't prove anything. I'm sure he was just trying to help."

"No, it doesn't prove anything. But I saw Heyes' horse. She was locked up in a stall. If Heyes had fallen off of her and hit his head, she would have been out running free."

Catherine's hand went to her stomach. The pinch of doubt was back and this time it was just a little tighter. She pushed it away.

"Catherine, I think we're in danger. We have to—"

"In danger? From Jeremiah? No, that's crazy. He'd never hurt me. He loves me. We're planning to be married."

"Catherine, listen to me…I'm pretty sure Jeremiah hit your uncle over the head with a rock. And I think he would have hit him again, harder, if I hadn't shown up when I did."

"No! That's impossible. Jeremiah loves me!"

"Catherine—"

"I think you should leave now. I'll take care of Uncle Heyes. You need to go."

"I can't leave you. The telegram Heyes sent said your father should watch over you…and since your father isn't here…well, then it's up to me."

"Let me see the telegram," Catherine demanded.

Charlotte took the folded paper from her skirt pocket and handed it to the girl. She watched as Catherine read the note, once, and then twice. Something that Charlotte hoped was doubt clouded the young girl's features. She looked up from the paper and asked softly, "Did my uncle go to Cheyenne to check up on Jeremiah?" guessing what the note was referring to.

"I don't know…I think so," Charlotte answered, just as softly.

Catherine stared off, clutching the telegram in her hand tightly, wrinkling the paper with her grip. "So that must mean that Uncle Heyes doesn't underst—"

From the bed, Heyes groaned softly and both women rushed to his side. Charlotte knelt on the rug, near where his head rested on a pillow. "It looks as though the bleeding has almost stopped," she said, moving his head far enough so she could examine the bandage. "But he's going to need to see a doctor. When is your father expected home, Catherine?"

Catherine's eyes widened with surprise, "Didn't Jeremiah tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"The sheriff came out here this morning and took my pa into town."

"What for?"

"He thinks Pa stole those horses from that other ranch. So he and a couple other men took him in. I think he's under arrest. Jeremiah didn't tell you?" she asked again, in obvious distress.

"No. He just said your father went into town this morning. He didn't say anything else."

"Why didn't he tell you," Catherine asked, more to herself than to Charlotte. Her mind was racing but the answer kept eluding her. "It doesn't make any sense."

Heyes groaned again, louder. Catherine and Charlotte fell silent, watching him. His eyes fluttered but didn't open. He grimaced in pain, his hand came up from where it had been resting and he tried to touch his head, but Charlotte grabbed his arm, keeping him from disturbing the bandages. "Shhh, Hannibal. It's going to be all right. You need to rest," she murmured softly into his ear.

His eyelids opened, the ache in his head making him wince. He frowned, realizing where he was. "Charlotte? What are you doing here?" he asked weakly. "What—what happened?" He tried to sit up, but only managed to raise his head an inch or two off the pillow before dropping back down.

"I'm not sure, darling. Please, don't try to move yet."

"My head…feels like an anvil dropped on me."

Charlotte cast a guilty glance in Catherine's direction before saying, "I'm not sure, Heyes, but I think Wilde might have hit you with a rock."

"Wilde? I—I don't remember. I remember getting off my horse and then—nothing." He closed his eyes again and breathed quietly for a while as both women watched over him; Charlotte, kneeling by his bedside, and Catherine standing on the opposite side of him, wringing her hands nervously. Then, his eyes opened as if suddenly remembering something important.

"Where's Kid?" he asked, worry tying a knot in his stomach.

"The sheriff came for him this morning, Hannibal."

"What?" he cried out, trying to sit up again, but the pain drove him onto his back.

"Shhhh…you need to lie still."

"You have to warn her, Charlotte." His words were becoming weaker; the strain of trying to talk getting the better of him.

"What, Heyes? Tell me. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Tell Catherine." His words were almost a whisper; she needed to lean in close to his lips to hear.

"What Heyes? Tell her what?"

"Tell her to be careful. Tell her to stay away from Wilde." His words were merely puffs of sound floating off his lips—and then he was gone, drifting back out of consciousness.

Suddenly the door burst open and both women spun around to see Jeremiah standing in the doorway. He held a gun, the muzzle pointed directly at Charlotte.

Catherine's breath caught painfully in her throat as a sob struggled to free itself from deep inside her soul. Jeremiah's eyes were shining unnaturally bright, but all his attention was focused on Heyes and Charlotte. Catherine noticed, with a feeling akin to horror, that Jeremiah was clutching several lengths of rope in his other hand.

"Jeremiah?" she cried, forcing him to look at her. "What are you doing?"

"It's ok, darling. Slight change of plans is all. We have to leave. Things aren't working out quite like I planned, but we can still be together."

"What?"

He tossed the sections of rope he was holding in her direction, expecting her to catch them; instead they dropped in a loopy pile to the ground near her feet. He frowned at her and said, his voice revealing a hint of irritation. "Pick them up, Catherine. We need to tie them up."

"What?" she repeated, her voice sounding tinny and hollow in her ears. She was staring at Jeremiah with new eyes, unable to recognize the charming boy that she'd fallen in love with. She risked a quick glance at Charlotte and then at her uncle Heyes, lying still and pale in his bed. Then her eyes were drawn back to Jeremiah.

He gestured at her, using his gun to indicate that she should pick up the ropes, and be quick about it. She merely shook her head at him, her eyes now fastened on the end of the gun barrel. His frown deepened, unable to comprehend why she was being so stubborn and uncooperative.

"Catherine," he spoke quietly and patiently, as if explaining a difficult situation to a small child. "We need to hurry. Come on…chop, chop, let's go." He tried a smile, but it came out looking forced and unnatural, not a bit charming, and not achieving the result he had hoped for; Catherine's cooperation.

After leaving Charlotte earlier, Jeremiah had thought long and hard, trying to come up with some solution that would save his plan from failure. But every avenue he went down ended at the same dead end; he was not going to be able to gain control of the ranch and make the quick sale to Denton. Damn Curry and his suspicions and accusations, he'd forced his hand too soon. The only thing he had any hope of keeping was Catherine, small enough prize that she was and not what he was hoping for, but he could at least have her—for as long as he wanted and for whatever purpose he desired—and then when his use for her ran out, he could just get rid of her.

So that became his last-ditch plan…take Catherine and go. At least then, he'd have accomplished one small goal; making Kid Curry's life hell for the rest of his miserable days, knowing that he had lost the one thing that could have redeemed him, his daughter.

But now, the girl was just standing there staring at him mindlessly, her eyes looking like they were ready to pop right out of her head. He felt angry; he wanted to smash her head against the wall and make her see reason. His vision started to blur slightly as his anger grew, but he was finally able push the negative emotions back down to a manageable level. He tried another smile, his charm had always paved the way for him before and it would this time too.

"Catherine?"

The ropes were still lying on the floor. Her eyes darted from him to the school teacher, who opened her mouth as if to speak. He quickly silenced her by pointing the barrel of the gun toward her face. Her mouth shut without uttering a single syllable. He smiled.

"The ropes, Catherine."

"No," she said, her voice shaky, but her face resolute.

He was annoyed, but at the same time pleasantly surprised. 'She might make this interesting after all,' he thought. He walked over to her, motioning her backwards with a jerk of his gun. He leaned down, never taking his eyes off the two women, and feeling around on the floor with his free hand, picked up the ropes. He stepped closer to Catherine, trying to get her to take them from him. "Here, tie them up," he encouraged, smiling at her. "Let's go."

"No, Jeremiah. I won't. And I'm not going with you!"

Like quicksilver, his hand, still clutching the ropes, lashed out, striking her, closed-fisted, across her cheek. An angry red circle immediately appeared on her soft, pale skin. Surprised, she cried out briefly but recovered quickly, forcing herself not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Her defiance made him angrier and he raised his hand a second time, ready to hit her again. Then he thought better of it, the image of Kid Curry's wrath hanging over him like a ghost; and with a deliberate effort, lowered his hand to his side, his fist still clenched into a tight, white-knuckled ball.

"All right, Catherine. Have it your way. You might want to have a chair then." He pushed her down into a chair. Then he gestured at Charlotte. "You…school teacher. Tie my fiancé up please, and make it quick…or else I'm going to have to shoot your boyfriend here."

Charlotte took the rope Jeremiah held out to her. It seemed safer to go along with his requests than to argue, and then he'd leave, once they were safely out of his way. That's what she hoped anyway.

With apologetic eyes, Charlotte tied Catherine's hands and feet. "Very good," Jeremiah commented, checking her work. "Nice knots. Now it's your turn." He looked around as if searching for another chair to tie her into. Finding none, he commanded, "Lie down on the bed, on your stomach."

Charlotte bristled at the suggestion but seeing no options, she complied, lying down on the half of the bed unoccupied by an unconscious Heyes. Jeremiah quickly set to work tying her hands and feet.

After he was finished, he looked at Heyes, considering what to do with him. He was still tempted to shoot him where he laid finishing off the job he'd started. It would be so easy; one single bullet is all it would take.

He looked over at Catherine, helplessly tied. His eyes gazed at her coldly. "So what do you think, Catherine? Should I let your uncle live? Or end his miserable, worthless life right now?"

"What?" she said, panic reflected in her eyes.

"I said—should I let him live, or shall I kill him?" he replied in a too-calm voice.

"Please, Jeremiah—why are you doing this?"

"I mean, I could just shoot him and be done with it…"

She stared at him in shock, shaking her head.

"Or…I could leave him, so he has to live the rest of his life with the knowledge that I beat him."

"Yes, please. Just leave—"

"Imagine that. The great Hannibal Heyes beaten by an unknown; not to mention Kid Curry. I guess I took care of him too, didn't I? That could prove to be a heavy burden for the arrogant bastards to carry around with them, don't you think?"

Catherine was reduced to sobbing by this time, listening to the man she thought she had loved discuss her father and uncle with such venom and rancor.

He kept talking, unaware of Catherine's reaction. "So what's it gonna be, Cat? Death, or humiliation for the old man?" He lifted his gun. She watched as he pulled back the hammer and sighted the barrel at Heyes' head. She could hear her voice pleading for her uncle's life, pleading while Jeremiah Wilde laughed.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Sheriff Caldwell

Sheriff Jack Caldwell assumed a shooter's stance, held his breath, and drew. His gun hand was rock-steady as the shot rang out, shattering its target on impact.

"Not bad," Kid Curry whistled, low and appreciative, as he looked down at the remains of the whiskey bottle scattered across the dusty earth of the alley behind the sheriff's office.

The sheriff holstered his gun with an irritated shake of his head. "Not as fast as yours though," the younger man muttered, torn between resentment and awe.

"Welllll," Curry drawled modestly, "I've done a lot of practicing."

"I guess…" Caldwell grinned ruefully, "I gotta tell ya, I thought that reputation of yours was more tall tale than truth, but now…"

"I could give some pointers if you want; show you a couple of things that might shave a little time off your draw—your aim is pretty good."

Caldwell chuckled. "I've never been one to turn down good advice."

"It's a whole different thing when it's a man you're shooting at though," Curry said slowly. "You can't rely on what you learn shooting whiskey bottles when you're facing down something that can shoot back."

Caldwell looked intently at the former outlaw, wanting to ask the inevitable question, but not sure it would be welcome.

Curry knew what the other man was itching to ask. His expression darkened. "You ever kill a man, Sheriff?"

"No, and I hope I never have to," Caldwell said seriously.

"I hope you don't either…but if it comes down to you or him…or some innocent person…a moment's hesitation could get you or someone else killed."

"So how can you know when it's a 'kill or be killed' situation?"

"You just know," Curry replied, shifting his gaze to the broken glass laying on the dirt street. He was silent for a few seconds, during which Caldwell could sense that he was lost in some old memory that he would rather not revisit. Finally, Kid seemed to remember where he was. "Come on, Sheriff. Let's go back inside—play some cards. I need to take my mind off things."

"So what do you expect to hear from your friends in Cheyenne?" Kid asked later, after the two finally gave up trying to play cards again.

"I don't know really; something that can tie Wilde to these horse thefts." Caldwell sat behind his desk, with his right foot propped up on an open drawer beside him.

Kid walked around the office, feeling as comfortable as he ever had in a sheriff's office; which wasn't really saying all that much. He stopped to glance at the wanted posters hanging from the board next to the front door, half expecting to see his own description posted there. "You mean like a criminal background?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"You can't always judge a person by their past, you know, sheriff." He turned away from the posters to fasten his hard gaze on Caldwell.

"I know that," Caldwell said slowly, "but I can't just go arrest Wilde on nothing more than…"

"My word?" Curry asked, raising his eyebrows mockingly.

Caldwell stared back without answering. "He'll make a mistake. He'll slip up. I'll get him."

The sheriff was the first to look away. The former outlaw was beginning to get to him. He was overturning all of his notions about human nature. 'Once a criminal, always a criminal.' 'There are good men and there are bad men.' And bad men don't…change. Do they?

Standing up from his desk, Caldwell glanced at the clock for the hundredth time that morning. "I don't know what's keeping Tom and Bud. They should have checked back in by now." He rubbed his chin impatiently. "I can't sit around this office another minute. It's nearly lunchtime," he smiled conspiratorially. "Why don't we go get a drink?"

Curry looked back in surprise. He nodded gratefully. The waiting around and not doing anything was about to drive him crazy. "Lead the way, Sheriff."

At the saloon they found Tom, Caldwell's deputy, sitting with his feet up on a table drinking a beer; there was an empty mug on the table in front of him. The feet were quickly scooted off the table as soon as the man saw them appear. "Oh, there you are sheriff. I was lookin' for you."

"Yes, I can see that," Caldwell observed, frowning at the empty mug. "Looks like you've been here a while, Tom."

The deputy looked flustered. "Well, I checked in your office but you weren't there so I thought you might have come over here; and once I was here, I figured I probably had time for one."

"Or two?"

Tom grinned at the floor, shame-faced.

"Never mind. We'll talk about this later. Any new developments?"

"Uh, sure. A telegram came in for you."

"Well?" the sheriff asked impatiently, wondering if he should consider finding himself a new deputy soon.

"Oh, got it right here." The deputy fished into his pocket while the two other men looked on with growing irritation. "Here you go," Tom said finally, handing over the wrinkled and soggy telegram.

Caldwell snatched it quickly and began reading, his lips moving slightly as he followed the words.

"Well?" Curry asked when he saw the sheriff's eyes narrow. "What's it say?"

"It's from Sheriff Eldridge in Cheyenne. Looks like a couple of boys fitting Wilde and Billy's description were suspected of stealin' a few horses on a ranch outside of town last summer. Probably wouldn't have found it, except that Hannibal Heyes showed up in his office two days ago and wouldn't leave until he'd gone through every poster Eldridge had, even the old ones in the bottom of the drawer. They were using different names, but Heyes said the descriptions fit Jeremiah Wilde and Billy Rivers."

"Does he say Heyes is still in Cheyenne?"

"No, Eldridge says he checked with the night clerk at the hotel and apparently Heyes left sometime during the night; took the posters with him. Figures he was heading this way."

"That means he's probably back by now," Kid estimated; concerned for his friend. "He might have gone straight to the ranch. He doesn't know about Billy or…what's happened. He's going to walk right into trouble. I've gotta get back there."

"I'm beginning to agree with you," Caldwell said. "Let's go."

Curry locked eyes with the sheriff for a moment; in that instant a silent agreement was reached. They were working together now with a common goal; finding Wilde and bringing him to justice for his crimes.

The two men almost ran out of the saloon. "Curry, I need to remind you not to do anything heroic or stupid out there. When the time comes, you let me handle Wilde. I'm the law, remember?" Caldwell told Kid, using his most authoritative voice.

"How can I forget?" Curry growled back. His voice brightened a bit, saying, "I'll tell you one thing though. I sure am glad Bud went out there and brought Catherine into town. At least we don't have to worry about her safety."

As if summoned by the mere mention of his name, the deputy appeared in front of them, picking his teeth with a wooden pick. He was coming out of the diner across the street. "Bud!" Caldwell called out, surprised to see him. He looked him over suspiciously, wondering if he might need to get _a couple _of new deputies, and the sooner the better. "Did you get Miss Curry settled in okay at the schoolteacher's place?"

"Well, uh, no," Bud said, sucking at his teeth. "I rode out to Miss Gray's place but she wasn't there. I figured maybe she was here in town, so I thought…"

"Thought you'd have lunch?" Caldwell asked, his anger rising; the volume of his voice rising to match it.

"Well, I…uh…"

"Damn it, Bud. I'll talk to you later!" Caldwell snapped, and jumped onto his horse to follow Curry, who'd taken off at a gallop after Bud's first words.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The Escape

Catherine's tears had dried, leaving dim salty tracks on her cheeks. Her eyes had taken on a determined, resolute grimness. She was focused on the two people lying on the bed in front of her. Charlotte, from her position on her belly, stared back at the younger woman with relief. She could tell by the hard set of Catherine's face that her disillusionment with Wilde had not broken her spirit.

Catherine tested her bonds, working her hands back and forth looking for slack in the ropes and finding none; not that she really expected to find any. Fortunately, Jeremiah had not thought to physically tie her to the chair. Using her body for leverage, she pushed herself upright; a mirthless smile curving her lips upward.

"Good girl, Catherine," Charlotte murmured. The teenager crossed the space between her chair and the bed in three, slightly off-balance hops and then, pivoting her body, she aligned herself next to Charlotte's hands which were bound behind her back. Charlotte, using her shoulders and knees for locomotion, scooted her body over as far as she could to give Catherine enough room to lower herself onto the bed next to her in a sitting position.

Stretching her arms backwards, the girl could, with some difficulty, reach Charlotte's ropes. Straining, she worked to untie the knots Jeremiah made. He had tied them well though and after several minutes of trying, with no progress at all, she gave up.

"Here, let me," Charlotte said. "I tried not to tie yours so tightly." She pushed with her knees, rolling herself onto her side facing away from Catherine. This brought their hands even closer together. "That's better," she breathed.

"Hurry, Charlotte," Catherine implored. She could feel the school teacher's fingers, at first fumbling with the ropes, feeling out the knots before setting to work undoing them. After a few minutes, during which it seemed as if the knots were never going to loosen, she finally felt a tiny bit of slack work its way into the ropes. She held her breath, waiting, and could tell that Charlotte was holding her breath as well.

When the ropes gave way and one of Catherine's hands was suddenly free, she pulled her hands in front of her and yanked the remaining loops away. Tossing the coil of rope to the floor in triumph, she swiveled on the bed and set to work on Charlotte's bonds. With her hands free it didn't take more than a minute of fevered maneuverings to loosen the school teacher's knots.

"Thank God," Charlotte said, as both women began to untie their feet. She kept glancing at Heyes, worry creasing her forehead; he was too still.

Free from her ropes, Catherine returned to the chair where she'd been tied and allowed herself to sink into her own thoughts. Charlotte watched her with concern, but was satisfied by the hard expression on the girl's face that her experience with Wilde had not destroyed her confidence.

After satisfying herself as to Catherine's state of mind, she turned her attention back to Heyes, willing him to be all right. As if her thoughts penetrated his unconscious mind, he stirred. Still hurting badly, he groaned, a long, deep growl from low in his throat. As if resisting coming awake, he ground his eyes shut tightly, bringing his eyebrows down and together against the pain.

Charlotte leaned over him from her side of the bed. She smoothed his brow with her fingertips, "Hush, Hannibal. It's alright now; he's gone." Wilde was indeed gone. They had heard him ride off just a few minutes after he'd left them tied up, and they didn't expect him back.

Heyes relaxed under the cool touch of her hand. His eyes remained closed under smoothed brows while he breathed, deeply and calmly, willing to allow her to take care of him for a while, willing to allow himself the luxury of recovering slowly.

Suddenly, his eyes opened wide. He cried out, one syllable, "Kid!" Before she could react, he sat up, white light spreading inward from the edges of his vision, blinding him with its furious pain. She tried to push him back down and he wanted nothing more than to let her, but using all the resolve he could muster, he fought off her hands, insisting, "No!"

She backed off, sensing that there was no point in trying to stop him from doing what he needed to do, whatever that was. He leaned forward, clutching his head in his hands, another groan escaping past his lips. Concentrating all his energies, he managed to push away the white veil that had descended over his eyes and with it some of the pain. "Damn," he growled, his breath catching in his chest.

"Heyes, please," Charlotte begged, "lie down. You're hurt. And Wilde's gone. It's all going to be alright now."

"I need to talk to Kid," he said, ignoring her. "Where is he?"

"I told you. The sheriff took him into town this morning. He arrested him."

"Oh…that's right, you did tell me that. I remember." He paused, trying to process the information Charlotte and Catherine had told him earlier. "What happened?"

Charlotte was confused by his question. She frowned quizzically at him, looking for clarification of what he wanted to know.

"What happened here this morning? Why would the sheriff arrest him? He didn't have any proof that we've…that he's done anything wrong."

Catherine answered him, her voice tearful and full of anguish. "The stolen horses—they showed up in our corral this morning. The sheriff thought dad brought them here."

Heyes groaned unhappily. He knew he had to go. With deliberate effort, he pushed his legs off the bed and let them drop onto the floor. He was still fully dressed and grateful that he wouldn't have to expend the effort necessary to put his clothes or boots back on. His hat rested on the nightstand by the bed, right next to the basin still filled with the blood-tinged water that Charlotte had used to cleanse his wound. He glanced at the pinkish liquid, suppressing an unexpected urge to gag at the sight of it, before gingerly placing the hat lightly on his head. His stomach churned, the pain in his head and the sight of his blood in the basin had made him more nauseous than he wanted to admit.

"Where are you going?" Charlotte asked, her voice becoming loud in her distress.

"I have to find Wilde," Heyes answered matter-of-factly, trying to push himself off the bed but not quite able to find his feet beneath him. He sank back down on his haunches, giving his head and his stomach another minute to calm down.

"What?" she cried. "You can't even stand up. How do you expect to find him? You can't ride, Heyes. You're hurt." She rushed around to the other side of the bed and tried to convince him to lie back down again with gentle pressure, her hands on his shoulders.

He resisted, "I'm fine," he said, stubbornly and a little sharply, instantly regretting his tone knowing that it would hurt Charlotte's feelings. He continued more quietly, "I have to go, Charlotte. I don't have a choice."

She sighed. "I know, Heyes. Kid needs you." She moved her hands from his shoulders down his arms, letting him know by her touch and her face that she was there to help him when he was ready to try again to stand.

He smiled gratefully at her; grateful for her help and for her understanding. The smile came at a price though, as the effort it took to move his facial muscles sent another shockwave through his skull and the smile ended in a grimace of pain. Once it had passed, he accepted her help, allowing her to pull him to his feet. The room rotated slowly for a few seconds but soon the earth stood still again and his vision cleared.

"I'm going with you Heyes," Charlotte tried. Her eyes pleaded with him.

"No." The one word was all he could manage as the room took one more slow rotation. After swallowing hard, he said, "You and Catherine stay here where it's safe. I can't be worrying about you right now. I'm sorry…I can't put you in any more danger."

Charlotte smiled, her eyes wet with unshed tears. She wanted so badly to argue with him; to make him see reason, but she knew that it would do no good. Her hands, still on his arms, clung to him desperately for a moment. She reached up on her toes and gently kissed his mouth, careful not to cause him any more pain. She whispered softly, "Be careful, Hannibal." Laying her head on his chest in resignation, she whispered again. He swore he heard her say, almost too quiet for him to hear, "I love you." Then she let go of him and stepped back, a brave smile on her face.

"At least let me help you get your horse ready?" Then she remembered Heyes' horse, already saddled and ready to ride, waiting for him in her stall in the barn.

"No, it's alright. I can do it." He took a step toward the door and stumbled forward as his legs refused to work as expected. She clutched his arm, steadying him again. He smiled down at her ruefully. "Maybe you should walk with me downstairs, Charlotte."

She nodded up at him, her smile at once sympathetic and concerned. She knew it was no use to try to convince him not to leave, not to go after Wilde. He was, after all, Hannibal Heyes, a man who had undoubtedly faced worse things in his life than a bump on the head—no matter how bad this seemed to her. She knew he'd do what he needed to do to help his friend, and she loved him for it, even though she wished he wouldn't.

The couple made their way to the head of the stairs, arm in arm. Charlotte sensed that Heyes was getting more sure-footed step by step and was relieved by this. At the head of the stairs, he paused for longer than normal, dizziness returning as he looked downward toward the bottom of the stairwell. He gripped the railing tightly. Charlotte held his arm on the other side. And once his focus returned, he started, a bit unsteadily, down the steps. Without either of them noticing, Catherine had fallen into step behind them, silently following them down.

"Well, see? That wasn't so bad now, was it?" Heyes quipped when he was finally at the bottom of the stairs. "Now all I have to do is find my horse and I'll be set." He smiled encouragingly at the women.

"I'll help you," Charlotte started.

"No," he answered quickly, the tone of his voice leaving no room for argument. "You stay in the house and lock the door after me. Make sure all the windows and the other doors are all locked securely too—just in case."

"But Heyes—"

He held up his hand to silence her. "I'm sorry, Charlotte, but I have to insist. Stay here—with the doors locked." He looked at her hard, waiting for her to protest. Her mouth opened briefly but closed again almost immediately. His mouth was set in a firm line, letting her know without question that he was not going to listen to reason. She shrugged, resigned to going along with his demands.

With a sweeping wave of her hand and an arch of her eyebrow, she gestured towards the door. "All right. Have it your way."

He looked at her suspiciously, not really trusting her to acquiesce that easily. He attempted an arch of his own eyebrows to convey his suspicion but he knew that the effort of raising even one would be too painful and he gave up on the notion before it was even half formed in his mind.

With one last warning glance, Heyes turned to leave but before he got two paces away, he relented and returned to kiss her softly on the mouth, enveloping her body in a reassuring hug. "I'll be back soon," he promised.

"See that you are," she said to his back as he closed the door behind him.

Heyes headed for the barn, proudly noting that he only stumbled once during the long journey to the filly's stall. He was momentarily confused to see that she was still saddled up and then he remembered—he never had the chance to unsaddle her. He mentally chastised himself for letting Wilde get the drop on him, but eventually pushed the useless thoughts out of his mind, leaving it clear for what was really important now—finding Wilde and bringing him back. He needed to bring the boy back so that he could 'convince' him to admit he was the real horse thief. That was the proof that he was going to need to clear Kid's name.

He had started opening the gate into the filly's stall when he glanced to the side. Two stalls down from the filly stood Prometheus, secure in his own stall. The horse was eyeing the man, watching his every move. Heyes stood still, eyeing the horse; sure that he could see, for the hundredth time, a distinctive intelligence in the horse's stare. He frowned, not unhappily but thoughtfully. He dismissed his thoughts about the horse, wanting to concentrate his compromised faculties on chasing down Wilde.

He pulled open the stall and grabbed the filly's reins. Over her back, his eyes locked on Prometheus again. The horse was still watching him, vigorously pawing the ground as if to attract the man's attention. When he knew Heyes was looking, Prometheus shook his massive head from side to side and whinnied softly. Heyes laughed softly, taken by the horse's maneuverings.

Before he even realized what he planned to do, Heyes uncinched the saddle from around the filly's belly. It took more strength and effort than it should have but by gritting his teeth against the rising nausea he managed to pull the saddle off the back of the horse. Then he walked two stalls down. He studied the big animal. "So you think you're ready for this, fella?" Prometheus snorted. "It's not going to be easy, you know. We're going to have to work together on this." Prometheus snorted and pawed the ground, gouging tracks in the earthen floor of his stall.

Heyes smiled grimly. He knew the horse was willing, but was he ready? He sighed, "It all comes down to trust, doesn't it." The way he said it, it was clear that it was more a statement than a question.

Two pairs of eyes watched Heyes ride from the barn. Charlotte thought he looked a little wobbly in the saddle. She frowned, worried about him going out on his own, into a situation that was sure to turn dangerous. After watching him turn away down the road, she let the curtain drop from her fingers. Without explanation to Catherine, she hurried to the front door.

"Wait, Miss Gray! Where are you going? Uncle Heyes said—"

"I can't let him go on his own. Something bad is going to happen, I know it!"

"But he won't let you go with him. He already told you."

"Then I'll follow him. He's in such bad shape that I doubt he'll even notice."

"You don't think Hannibal Heyes is going to notice that you're following him?" Catherine asked, a small smile playing across her lips at the absurdity of the idea.

Charlotte ignored her, pulling the door open wider. Catherine realized that the older woman was not prepared to listen to reason, so she followed her.

"Now, where do you think that you're going?" Charlotte asked.

"With you."

"No, absolutely not. You're staying here where it's safe."

Catherine lifted her chin defiantly. "I'm sorry, but I'm not! If you go, I'm going with you. My father is in just as much danger as Uncle Heyes is."

"Your father is in jail. He's not in any immediate danger."

The women stared challengingly at each other for several long seconds. Charlotte was the first to break eye contact. Sighing heavily, she surrendered, "Ok, you win. I don't have time to argue. We'll both go."

Catherine smiled thinly.

"But you remember—I'm in charge. You do what I say. Ok?"

The two men were on the look-out for anything out of the ordinary. The place seemed quiet, no, not quiet—disquieting. "Something's not right," Kid said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Caldwell glanced at the ex-gunfighter. His instincts told him the same thing but he was somehow gratified that Curry felt it too. "Yep."

"Looks deserted," Kid said, sweeping his gaze in all directions as he swung his leg over his horse and dismounted. The men drew their guns, insurance against whatever they might encounter in their search of the property. "Where the hell is everybody?" he asked, angrily. His nerves were frayed from the long ride out from town; his worry had built with each stride of his horse.

"Calm down, Curry. We don't know anything yet. Your daughter might just be in the house…Heyes too, for that matter. Could be they just didn't hear us ride up."

"Could be," Kid agreed dubiously. "Come on."

The men climbed the steps to the porch, first Kid and then Caldwell. Kid's heart pounded viciously in his chest at the sight of the front door standing ajar. He glanced at the sheriff, swallowed hard, and cautiously pushed the door open. Both guns were cocked and ready for trouble.

Inside, they listened. The house was silent. _'As a grave,'_ Kid thought fleetingly, a shiver running across the back of his neck. "Heyes?" he called. "Catherine?" The house didn't answer. "Where the hell are they?" he said.

"Let's look upstairs," the sheriff suggested.

The two men crept up the stairs, not sure what to expect at the top. Kid led the way down the corridor to Catherine's room. Her door was open and the room was empty. The bed was made, but rumpled, as if someone had lain down atop the covers that morning. Kid's eyes rested for a moment on the old doll lying there, as if tossed aside uncaringly. He felt a pang of regret for childhoods missed, his own and Catherine's. "She's not here," he said to the sheriff, stating the obvious.

He pulled the door shut and turned his attention to Heyes' room. The door was shut. Something about the closed door seemed foreboding, an omen not to be taken lightly but with no clear meaning.

Kid debated whether to announce their arrival or to use the element of surprise. He chose surprise. Gesturing for the sheriff to stand clear, he raised his good leg, resting his full weight on his injured one, and kicked hard. He winced with pain but the door complied, flying open. He rushed in, gun held out in front of him, finger on the trigger.

The room was empty. But it was clear that, up until very recently, it had held more than one person, most likely against their will. His eyes swept the room with growing concern, bordering on a father's horror. The bed was rumpled, not unlike Catherine's, but the room held more clues to what had transpired there and none of them were a comfort to the man who was friend and father to those he suspected had been here last.

He reached down and picked up several lengths of rope. "Four. Four pieces of rope," he mused. "Probably held their hands and feet. But where are they now?" He walked around the bed, noticing the basin of water next to Heyes' bed. His blood ran cold seeing the deep pink color of the water.

"Someone's hurt," the sheriff said, taking in the bloody basin and the roll of bandages on the nightstand.

"Yeah, but who? Heyes or Catherine?" Kid wondered, not liking either answer. "And where are they now?"

"I don't know. But I suspect that if we find Wilde, we'll find them too." The men locked eyes; both of them believed this was true, but neither could help wondering what condition they would find them in.

Kid's face felt like it had turned to granite. "Let's go," he said with quiet determination.

The sheriff nodded, hoping that when they did find Wilde, he'd be able to maintain control over the situation. If the horse thief had hurt one of Kid Curry's loved ones, as it appeared he had, he wasn't sure he'd be able to stop the ex-outlaw from killing him. And if that happened, there would be nothing he could do to protect Curry from the consequences.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The Search

Leaving the ranch, Jack Caldwell and Jed Curry rode with urgency and grim determination, each man absorbed in his own thoughts. They'd been able to discern several distinct sets of hoof prints leading away from the property and it looked like they were all heading in the same direction. It was difficult to say how much head start the others had on them and it was impossible to know what Wilde had in mind for them if he'd taken them hostage. The sheriff and the ex-outlaw had no choice but to follow the tracks and hope for the best. They had little to say to each other as they rode, both thinking of the danger ahead.

For Curry, it was personal. Wilde had stepped over the line when he put Catherine in peril. It didn't matter any more what Curry had suffered. Being accused of horse thievery was nothing, he'd faced much worse in his life—but nobody messed with his family.

For Caldwell, it had started as merely his job, but it was quickly becoming personal. He feared that his own hesitation to follow his instincts instead of the 'evidence' might end up getting innocent people hurt, or even killed. If it came to that, he knew he wouldn't be able to forgive himself. And now he had the added worry of wondering how Kid Curry would react. Images from the bedroom back at the ranch kept coming back to haunt him. From the look on Curry's face, he suspected he was seeing a variation of the same things playing through his mind. His forehead was alternately creased with worry or lined with anger.

As they rode along overlooking the river, Curry suddenly halted his horse. He strained his body forward, squinting for a better look and shouted, "There! Down by the stream! It's Catherine!" he called out as he urged his horse to move.

The sheriff had been startled by Curry's outburst. Now his face broke out into a huge grin. "I'll be damned," he muttered, chuckling softly, feeling a huge weight slip off his chest. The two men turned their horses down the steep ridge down to the river, not wanting to waste any time getting to the women by taking an easier route.

Catherine was the first to spot them descending toward them, indifferent to their own personal safety on the slippery slope. She pointed in their direction so Charlotte would se them too.

Even from a distance, Kid saw the relief on her face as the two women rode to meet the men. "Charlotte, what are you doing here?" Suddenly a new thought struck him, _'Where the hell is Heyes?'_

"Oh Jed! Sheriff! Heyes has gone after Jeremiah by himself—and he's hurt," Charlotte blurted out as soon as they reached each other.

"Wilde's hurt?" Caldwell asked, reining his horse to a quick stop next to the two women.

Curry ran his eyes over both women, relaxing only after assuring himself that they were unharmed. Catherine looked down and wouldn't meet his eyes. He wanted to say something to her, but he wasn't sure where to begin. The only thing on his mind now that he knew Catherine was safe—was finding Wilde.

"No, it's Heyes. Please find him," Charlotte pleaded.

"Heyes is hurt?" Kid asked, looking up sharply, the picture of the bloody wash basin with soiled towels replaying in his mind. He'd assumed that it had been one of them women who'd been injured, but now he realized his mistake.

"Yes, Jeremiah hit him on the head. He shouldn't even be riding. He could barely sit on a horse. I'm afraid that he'll—"

"You said he went after Wilde?" Caldwell interrupted. "Alone? Why would he do that? He should have let the law deal with Wilde."

"Once he heard that you'd arrested Jed, he felt he had to bring the boy back so he could prove their innocence."

Caldwell felt a pang of guilt. If he'd known what was going on at the ranch, he would have let Curry go. He never believed the man had stolen those horses anyway.

"It doesn't matter now," Curry interrupted, as if he could read the sheriff's thoughts. "If Heyes is after Wilde, he's tracking him. If we follow those tracks, we'll find Heyes—and Wilde." Caldwell nodded his agreement.

"Charlotte, take Catherine back to the ranch. Stay there until we get back. And lock the doors," he ordered. Then, giving his horse a sharp kick, he set out to find Heyes.

"That's good advice, ladies. You'd best get on back to the ranch. We'll let you know as soon as we've captured Wilde." Caldwell tipped his hat politely and then he was gone, rushing to catch up with Curry.

After the two men were out of sight, Charlotte looked at Catherine. "He's right, I should take you back to your ranch, but…I'm worried about Heyes." She felt conflicted in her loyalties, wanting to go to Heyes, but feeling an obligation to take care of Catherine. Finally deciding what she needed to do, she asked the girl, "Can you go back by yourself?"

"No, this is all my fault and I'm not going to just go back to the ranch and wait. I'm going to follow them." She looked down at the ground and continued softly, "I have to set things right with my father…" Catherine knew she had hurt her father and she wanted to let him know how she felt…to ask him to forgiver her…but didn't know where to begin. She couldn't forget that the last time he went after men who had hurt her he had almost been killed. She wouldn't be able to live with herself if…

Charlotte thought for a moment, weighing the risks, unmindful of the girl's private misgivings. "I guess neither one of us is much for waiting around. But we'll have to be careful." She gave the girl a stern look, the one usually reserved for her rowdier students.

Catherine merely nodded meekly. "Don't worry. I'll do whatever you say. I'm just not going back to the ranch alone."

"Alright then," Charlotte agreed as the two started out again, following the tracks in the soft earth beside the stream.

Hannibal Heyes hoped he was gaining on Wilde. He was banking on the fact that the boy didn't know he was being followed. He still felt dizzy and lightheaded from the blow, but he hadn't fallen off of his horse yet, and from that he took some small satisfaction. Prometheus was giving him a steady and solid ride, moving fluidly beneath his rider, almost as though he were trying to keep him balanced on his back. _'I knew I wasn't wrong about you boy, you'll find that kid and we'll take him back together'._

Heyes sensed he was closing in on Wilde, so he began to widen his course to circle around the other man. He smiled to himself as he approached the clearing ahead, spotting a lone figure. Wilde was off his horse just a short distance away, answering the call of nature. Heyes dismounted as quietly as he could and began to move slowly toward the boy, sliding his gun from its holster as he approached. After a few steps, he stopped and took a long slow breath to try and calm the wave of nausea washing over him. He had already been sick twice on the ride and he wasn't going to let it happen again. He steadied himself and proceeded carefully, moving in on Wilde, who looked like he was about ready to get back on his horse.

"Put your hands in the air, Wilde," Heyes said as firmly as he could, given his present condition.

Wilde's back stiffened. Turning slowly to face his adversary, he reluctantly obliged, raising his arms away from his body. His face was frozen in a cocky smirk. "Well, look at you. All patched up and out for a ride," he said mockingly. "How's your head feelin'? Hope it hurts like hell." Wilde bounced a little from side to side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other over and over as if trying to disorient the man facing him. "Are you dizzy, Heyes?" he asked in the same mocking tone.

"Shut up, Wilde, or I'll shoot you right now," Heyes ordered, his features hard. He swallowed hard, trying to quell the topsy turvy feeling in his stomach.

Wilde's smirk widened into a grin. "Now that might be a mistake, don't ya think? They'd hang you for murder and your partner for thievery." His eyes glinted with a yellow light. "They do still hang horse thieves, don't they?"

"If they do, then I guess you're in a lot of trouble aren't you, since you're the one who's been stealing horses? And I'm not worried about being hanged for murder—once I get done with you, they'll never find your body anyway." Heyes blinked hard, twice, trying to focus; dizziness washed over him. He felt the ground tilt gently beneath his feet.

Wilde sensed Heyes' weakness and advanced, moving to within a few paces, his hand shifting casually to his waistline. "You've got no proof that I did anything, and Curry's the one the sheriff arrested—caught him red handed. So I think this game is just about over."

"It's over alright," Heyes growled. He took a step toward Wilde, but his legs felt spongy and he staggered sideways.

Wilde didn't let the opportunity pass. He saw the chance to make his move and he took it, reaching behind his back to grab the gun that he'd jammed into the back of his pants under his coat. Before Heyes could see him move, he had it out and pointed right at his face. "Looks like what we got here is a stand-off," he laughed coldly, advancing again toward the former outlaw.

Each man stared down the barrel of the other's gun. The seconds ticked off. "What's it gonna be, Heyes? You gonna back off and let me ride away? Or are you gonna make me shoot you?" Heyes thought quickly, weighing his choices. None of them looked good.

Above them, hidden by the leafy overgrowth, Curry and Sheriff Caldwell approached quietly. When they were close enough to see the two men, Caldwell drew his gun from its holster and took aim at Wilde. Curry caught sight of him in the corner of his eye. "What are you doing," he hissed, reaching over and placing his hand on the gun at the end of Caldwell's outstretched arm, applying enough pressure to force the gun down and away from the intended target. "You can't take a shot from this range. Even if you hit him, he could still get off a shot at Heyes—and he's close enough not to miss."

"He's gonna kill him anyway if we don't do something fast. We already know he's killed before; there's no reason to believe he won't kill again."

"Don't you think I know that? But we're too far away. You'll never be able to pick him off. We have to get closer. And let me take the shot, ok? We need to take him alive."

Caldwell wasn't sure why, but he was inclined to let Curry have his way—and the first shot. As a lawman, he should be the man responsible for taking Wilde down, not an average citizen like Curry; but he had a gut feeling that, in this case, he needed to follow the other man's instincts.

There were two things he was sure about—One, Kid Curry was at least as good, if not a better shot than he himself was, and two, he wanted Jeremiah Wilde to be taken alive so that he could prove who the real horse thief was. Caldwell knew one more thing too—Curry would do everything in his power to make sure his partner wasn't hurt.

So Caldwell held back, letting Curry take the lead.

In his impaired state, Heyes was having difficulty knowing what to do. He knew he couldn't let Wilde ride off; but he couldn't kill him either. If Wilde was dead, he'd never be able to prove he and Kid had nothing to do with the stolen horses. Catherine said they'd been found in their corral. Only a confession by Wilde would prove their innocence. Even the wanted posters on two young men matching Wilde and Rivers descriptions wouldn't be enough to stand up against hard evidence.

Finally, unable to come up with any other option, Heyes slowly let his arm drop to his side. Wilde's face broke into a grin and he swung his own arm around, catching Heyes on the side of the head with the butt of his pistol. Heyes fell heavily, dropping sideways onto the ground. Barely holding on to consciousness, Heyes groped blindly on the ground for his gun; dropped when he had fallen. But Wilde reached it first, kicking it out of Heyes' range.

"I'm getting tired of your interference, Heyes. It's time to put an end to this." Wilde raised his gun. Heyes stared down the barrel, unable to do anything except wait for the blast. He watched as Wilde's thumb pulled back the hammer; he heard the familiar click of the hammer being locked into place. "Time to say goodbye, old man. You lose."

"Damn it!" Curry exclaimed when he saw Wilde strike his partner, knowing that he was still too far away to help him. "No!" he shouted, desperation making his voice catch in his throat.

At the same moment, Caldwell shouted, "Wilde! You're under arrest. There's nowhere for you to run!" He fired a shot but his bullet fell short. "Son of a—" He let out a low, guttural cry of frustration and then charged off behind Curry.

The young man ducked instinctively and glanced back, '_How did they find me? Well, they're a little too late.' _He grinned widely and looked back down at Heyes. "I guess we go together then," he said with an alarmingly bright laugh. Heyes could see his finger tightening on the trigger.

Prometheus had edged closer to where the confrontation between the two men was being played out. He watched as the 'other one' struck his master and partner, at first appearing cool and detached but becoming increasingly more restless. Initially, the only outward sign of his agitation were a series of low, warning whinnies that went unnoticed by the men. As Wilde continued to threaten Heyes, Prometheus grew more animated. He tossed his head, side to side, pawing the ground menacingly. This drew Heyes' attention but he was reluctantly to shift his attention away from the gun aimed at his face, so all he afforded the horse was a quick glance. Prometheus' motions became more exaggerated; he raised and lowered his head vigorously, sending foamy spittle flying as he let out several dangerous sounding snorts. Finally, unable to contain his anger any longer, he reared and raced headlong at Wilde, knocking him off balance and away from Heyes with his rock hard head. The man's gun flew out of his hand, landing harmlessly out of reach a few yards away.

Caldwell and Curry watched, surprised and shocked, as the horse knocked Wilde to the ground. Before they could dismount, the horse reared up over him, letting his hooves smash down onto his prone body.

Heyes could tell that the animal was preparing to rear a second time. "No, boy, don't! That's enough." Shakily, Heyes got to his feet and called out to the animal. Obediently, Prometheus immediately settled down enough for Heyes to approach him and stroke his neck soothingly.

"You have some timing, you know that?" Heyes said affectionately, trying to calm the big animal.

"Heyes! Are you alright?" Curry asked, jumping down from his horse, seemingly unaware of his injured leg.

"I've had better days," Heyes admitted dryly, "but I think I'll live—thanks to Prometheus."

Caldwell knelt beside the fallen man and checked for signs of life. "He's alive," he announced and reached to pick up the man's gun. "Looks like he hit his head when he fell back, but I can't tell if he has any broken bones. Probably does, considering the trouncing that horse just gave him." The sheriff sighed and looked down at Wilde. "One of us will have to ride back into town and get a wagon."

The sound of more horses got all three men's attention. Charlotte and Catherine had arrived just in time to see Prometheus attack Wilde, and both looked frightened but relieved. Charlotte dismounted quickly and ran to Heyes' side, slipping her arms around him. She stood there with her arms around his waist for a few moments, not speaking.

"Hey, I'm ok," Heyes said finally, giving her a weak smile.

Kid glanced over at Catherine, who had dismounted but hadn't moved away from her horse. The girl was staring at the unmoving form of Jeremiah on the ground, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes staring out wide and unbelieving above her hand. Kid sighed. _She's never going to forgive me,' _he thought, crestfallen.

Hoping to revive Wilde enough so he'd be able to sit a horse, thereby avoiding the need to ride all the way back to town for a wagon, Caldwell returned to his horse to get his canteen.

Charlotte had taken Heyes by the hand and lovingly led him to a patch of soft grass in the shade of some large, leafy trees. They sat there together, talking quietly, oblivious to what the others were doing.

Kid, somewhat hesitantly, began walking toward Catherine. As he looked into her face, he watched as her expression changed from one of sadness to something else; her eyes grew wide in what he finally recognized as terror and she let out a small cry. "Jeremiah, no!" Kid was startled, but, reacting more slowly than normal, only stared at her in confusion. By the time he realized what she was afraid of, it was too late. A shot rang out behind him and he turned back in time to see Wilde sprawled on his back in the dirt, staring unseeing up toward the clouds. He was bleeding profusely from his chest and a small handgun lay near his outstretched arm.

A few feet away Caldwell stood, frozen into place, with his own weapon drawn. He got up—he must have—had the gun inside his jacket," Caldwell said haltingly. "He was about to shoot you in the back."

Curry nodded slowly; Caldwell had just saved his life, and this time, Wilde was clearly dead.

"I should have checked for another weapon," Caldwell said, shaking his head slowly.

The two men locked eyes for a moment. Curry knew what he must be feeling. He could still remember how he'd felt after the first time he'd killed a man; even though it had been in self defense. Sometimes those feelings were as sharp and strong as if it had happened yesterday. He wondered if it was different for a lawman, at least he had a tin star to make it legal—part of the job. Somehow though, he doubted it made a difference.

Finally, Kid thought to look back to see how Catherine had reacted. She was also frozen in place, staring in wide-eyed disbelief at Jeremiah. When she noticed her father watching her, she quickly averted her eyes and dropped to her knees. She covered her face with both hand. Curry watched, feeling a father's pain as her shoulders began to shake. She was crying. He felt his heart break just a little.

'_She doesn't want to see me. She can't even look at me_,' Kid realized, swallowing back his own tears. '…_but I need to know that she's alright.'_

"Catherine," he began, as he touched her shoulder. She flinched at his touch and he pulled his hand away. "Catherine, I'm sorry about Jeremiah. I know you loved him."

"Loved him?" She looked up at him, her eyes full of self-reproach. Her cheeks were damp with unhappy tears. "I thought I did, but it was all a lie. He was just pretending to care about me. I was so stupid. You must hate me."

Kid's face showed genuine surprise. "Catherine, what are you talking about?"

"After everything I said…everything I did…I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again," she sobbed.

Kid could hardly believe what he was hearing, and he was having trouble taking in her words.

"I made so many mistakes…can you ever forgive me?" she continued to sob as she spoke.

"Catherine, honey, he tricked you. He's the one to blame—not you."

"I was such a fool," she said again. "He was nothing but a thief and a liar."

"You weren't the only one who was taken in. He was good. He had me going for a while there." Kid tried to give his daughter an encouraging smile.

"No, you saw him for what he was. You knew from the very beginning and you tried to tell me; but I wouldn't listen. I didn't see it until it was almost too late." She paused, studying her hands quietly for a minute before continuing quietly. "I was right about one thing though. He really wasn't anything like you." She lapsed into silence again, unable to maintain eye contact with her father. Then she looked at him, hope and fear showing in her eyes. "Can you forgive me?" She seemed on the brink of crying again.

Kid smiled sadly at her. "There's nothing to forgive, I—I love you." He realized as he said it that he'd never actually said those words to his daughter. Hesitantly he reached out to her. She stared at his outstretched hands, smiled gently, and let him lift her to her feet. He folded her into his arms and they silently held onto each other, both receiving comfort from the other.

Suddenly she pulled away and looked at him with alarm. "I thought you were in jail," she exclaimed. "Jeremiah said they were going to hang you."

"What? No, I'm fine," he told her. "Sheriff Caldwell there, he's pretty smart." He looked over to where Caldwell was beginning to load Jeremiah's body onto the back of his horse, working slowly but steadily.

"You mean he knew you didn't steal the horses?" Catherine interrupted his thoughts, still not convinced that her father was out of trouble.

"Well, not at first, but he knows now," Curry assured his daughter. "You're the one I'm concerned about. Are you going to be ok?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.

Catherine looked down and replied shakily, "I think so…now that _we're_ alright."

Kid felt his own eyes grow moist. "Everything is going to be ok. I promise. We'll get through this together," he pulled her to him again and held her tightly.

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It was hours after sundown when Kid finally sat with Charlotte in the living room of the ranch house. It had taken both of them to eventually convince Heyes to go upstairs and lie down, but he had fallen asleep moments after his head hit the pillow. Catherine had also fallen fast asleep, once her father and uncle had returned to the ranch. They had spent the afternoon and early evening in town, getting Jeremiah's body to the undertaker and having Heyes' head looked at by the doctor. After Heyes was pronounced fit to go home, and had answered the last of Sheriff's Caldwell's questions, Kid drove his partner back to the ranch in their wagon. Charlotte had insisted on waiting for them, in case Heyes needed any nursing, but Kid suspected it had more to do with her not wanting to be alone after the events of the day. It was finally agreed that she should share Catherine's room for the night.

"Do you really think he'll be alright tonight?" Charlotte asked for the third time, her eyes flicking toward the stairs leading up to Heyes' room. Each topic they had tried discussing had eventually returned to the same question.

"Charlotte, believe me, he'll be fine. He's been hit on the head harder than that lots of times," he started to smile, but the look on her face stopped him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he said more seriously. "But yes, I'm sure he'll be fine. The doc in town said he just needed to take it easy for a while."

"And he said that Heyes shouldn't ride," she added with a worried look. "Do you think he'll follow the doctor's orders?"

"Well, I think he will—if _you_ ask him to," Kid let out a small chuckle.

Charlotte cast him a nervous glance. "And…what do you think of that?" she asked tentatively.

Kid sat quietly for a minute before speaking. "Honestly? I couldn't be happier for you; for both of you."

She gave him a relieved smile. "I'm glad. I know how close you two are; how it's been just the two of you ever since both of your families were killed."

Kid stared at her, his brow rising. "Just how much has Heyes told you?"

Charlotte was suddenly sorry she'd brought the subject up. "Well, not that much really. Just…how your parents were killed, what it was like for both of you, and then about the home that you ended up in—what that was like."

Kid shook his head slowly. "Heyes has never talked about that, never, not even with me."

"Oh," she paused awkwardly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

Kid sighed heavily as he strained to stand. "Just one more change, I guess. I'm getting used to them."

Charlotte watched him force the pained expression from his face as he took a few steps. "How is your leg tonight? I noticed you haven't been using your cane tonight, or earlier when…we found Heyes. I hardly even noticed you limping. Maybe you overdid it a bit?"

Kid started to respond with a comment about how he didn't need her 'mothering' him, but he stopped himself. To be honest, it was nice to have a woman care about him—even if she was Heyes' woman.

"I didn't have time for it when we were looking for Wilde; I guess all the excitement just pushed the pain away for a while." He paused and smiled, lost in thought for a minute. "Like that time when Lobo got grazed by a bullet while we were all being chased by a posse out of Sweetwater, rode all the way back to Devil's Hole without even knowing he'd been hit." He laughed and shook his head. "Lobo wondered why his shirt was all bloody. It started to hurt him like hell that night though." He stared out the window into the darkness for a few minutes as he remembered another time and place.

"There is still so much I don't know about you and Heyes," Charlotte commented quietly.

"You know all that really matters—how Heyes feels about you. And it sounds like he's told you quite a bit."

"I'm just glad that he's alright…I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost him too…"

"Too?" Kid questioned, giving Charlotte his full attention.

"Like the rest of my family," she said simply.

Kid gave her a startled look.

"Oh, it wasn't anything like what happened to your families. It was the small pox. It was a long time ago."

Kid listened quietly and did not comment. He merely looked at Charlotte with concern, so she continued.

"I was fifteen, and had been sent away to school. Our town did not have a proper school, and my mother wanted me to have an education beyond what she could provide. When I heard that they were all sick, I insisted on coming home, but it was too late. They were all dead, my father, mother and younger sister. I thought that if I'd been there, there might have been something…"

"You'd have gotten sick too," Kid replied quietly.

"Maybe. Still, I should have been there. It seemed unfair that I lived and they died, it didn't seem right. Afterwards, after the funeral, I went back to school. It was hard at first; but I had no home to go back to and—well, I guess I've stayed at school ever since then. I've committed my life to seeing that this town has a school where children can get an education without having to leave their families to get it. I think every town in the west should have a proper school." Her voice had become firm again as she spoke.

"Sounds like there's a lot I don't know about you either," Kid said.

Charlotte smiled. "You really should get some rest now," she said gently but firmly.

"Yeah, I suppose I should, it's been a long day. I'm glad you're here," he said simply as he began to climb the stairs.

Epilogue

Three weeks later

"Pa, there's something I've been meaning to ask you," Catherine Curry ventured in a cheerful voice as they walked along the main street of Pine bluffs. "Can I stay here even after the summer is over? Maybe Miss Gray would let me finish up some classes with her? I really love it here, pa. I love the horses and everything is so wide open and free."

Kid's heart lifted at Catherine's word. He smiled faintly. "That would be nice, but you know, your ma could probably use some help with the new baby. I know she'd like you to be there now. But…if you want to, later…you can come back and visit again. I'll talk to your mother about it."

"That would be great, pa."

"Just don't go off and get married in the mean time."

Catherine laughed. "Don't worry about that. I think I'm going to wait a long time before I get married."

"I think that's a very wise plan," her father smiled down at her.

"Now you, on the other hand, have waited long enough," She looked sideways at her father with sly smile.

"What are you talking about?"

"Uncle Heyes has found Charlotte. You need someone too."

He shook his head, a touch of sadness visible around his eyes. "Catherine, I think maybe it's a little too late for me on that one."

"Uh, uh," she countered. "Miss Emma likes you. I can tell by the way she acts around you."

"Emma?" Kid asked in surprise. "No, she's just being polite. She's polite to everyone."

She shook her head, undeterred by his arguments. "I see the way she watches you when you're not looking. She likes you. A woman can tell these things."

"A woman can, can she?" He raised his eyebrows and took in this new idea.

Catherine nodded confidently.

He glanced across the street where Emma was sweeping off the front porch of the store. He caught her eye and she smiled shyly before going back to her chore.

"Well, there is a fall social in a few weeks. Maybe I'll invite her to go with me."

Catherine grinned. "I think that's a very _wise plan_," she said, looking up at her father.

The End


End file.
